It's War
by GroovyKat
Summary: Mark is pretty clueless as far as women go. Really clueless ... How can Princess possibly hold on to him when she's sent on a solo mission and he's left at Neptune within grasp of the new pretty face on the technical squad?
1. Chapter 1

Here's another oldie that I wrote a couple of years ago. My home at Da House is at an end and therefore I need to upload it somewhere else so that I won't lose it when I next crash my computer ... (which I do more often than not) Bloody windows I tell ya.

This particular fic is probably as AU as I'll ever get. I found something I wanted to explore and ... well ... explored it. It starts off kind of slow, as there were certain things I had to get out there before I could actually get on with the story. I ask that you bear with the first couple of chapters with the promise that it will get better ... And it does. Mark might seem like a douche initially, but I put it down to him just not having a clue about relationships ... Once it snaps out of him, he does fall back in to the man of our dreams...

I am doing a read through and fixing up a few spots to attempt to get Mark back into character, so while it may seem as though I am slow in posting because it's not finished, rest assured it is complete ... I estimate a couple of days to get it all together.

I'm rating it mature as there are some particularly racy sections. The smut bit I initially wrote will be chopped out completely (yeah, you think chapter three is naughty, the scene toward the end was reaaaaally good! it goes buh-bye, though in this release). I hope it has cleaned up enough not to violate any rules on ... I have read far far far worse than anything I've ever written, let alone posted here, so I figure I can get away with it so long as I slap a warning on it.

If you don't like it, I apologise ... I don't know where else to post ...

But anyhow ... on to the story. As usual the disclaimer stands as: I don't own them ... I make no claim to any character that wears wings or purple suits...

I hope you enjoy....

GK

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**It's War**

Centre Neptune's man-made reef structure had recently had modifications that allowed the uppermost section to become an island paradise. Built for covert surveillance and satellite link-ups, the island had been meticulously designed to appear no more than a few thousand square feet of sand and grasses. It drew no attention from potential land buyers or new millionaires, and certainly did not offer the camouflage that interested drug traffickers might seek. What it did attract, however, were Federation employees and the occasional G-Force member looking to spend some time alone.

…Princess being the main intruder.

She spent many an afternoon or early morning stretching her bare toes in the sand and spending quiet time doing tai chi or simply laying on the beach in a vain attempt to burn some colour into her ivory skin.

It was a contemplative moment for her each time she broke to the surface. It didn't matter if she was in the midst of a heavy set of yoga or Pilates, the blissful silence and solitude broken only by the gentle crash of waves, or the whoosh of a Whale taking a breath, was golden. She could solve the world's problems and daydream about life away from combat without ever having to worry about the appearance of the guys to harass and annoy her.

As much as she loved being around them … sometimes she needed to be away from them.

Even Mark.

Especially Mark.

While that might have surprised anyone with the ability to read her thoughts and emotions, she had to be honest and admit that at times he was the one thing she felt she really needed to just escape from to make her existence complete.

Or not so much him, but the lies and deceit that had become normal in their as yet undefined relationship. It was becoming so emotionally exhausting living to pretend they weren't together that she began to wonder if they even were together anymore.

She once asked him for a definition of their relationship. He responded by drawing her into his arms as he kissed her softly on the mouth and took her to his bed.

When all was done and they lay in the afterglow she pressed him further. He offered her a deep sigh and suggested that putting an official stamp on their relationship could ruin things if Anderson ever found out. If, when asked, they said they weren't in a "relationship", then there could be no real repercussions from the hierarchy of the G-Force project. This way they could continue to be together and not lie when questioned.

His reasoning was something she didn't openly question – however nonsensical it was. She let the confusion and wonder simply swirl unanswered in her mind trusting that Mark knew what was best for them. She tried not to react or feel hurt when in the course of their deceit against the Federation she had to watch as he flirted with other girls and joked with other pilots, and even Jason, about their own virility.

Tabloid reports didn't help her any. Report after report had Mark linked with more than one famous starlet or a bevy of beautiful girls that weren't her. He dismissed them quick enough. He would expel a long huff and toss it angrily into the nearest waste receptacle as he tried to assure her it was all false. He implored her to ignore the gossip and innuendo in each manipulated photograph.

Princess didn't really know how not to feel hurt by the reports. Even after she scraped away the bullshit gossip headlines and lies of infidelity and breakups, she found hurt in the stories. She was being presented as the weakest link on the team with doe-eyes for a man who simply was not interested in her. Her figure was put to question and over analyzed, as were her skills, and she was finding the whole thing to be absolutely humiliating.

On more than one occasion Mark had found her quietly, tearfully, contemplating the reports in a darkened room. Each time he had assured her that his heart was hers, and that she shouldn't concern herself with mindless trash. All that really mattered were he and she, and what they knew to be the truth. In those moments, when he would hold her close and talk of his love for her, she could care less about everything else. Confusion was shattered, insecurity dissipated, doubts were erased, all with three words from her Commander: I, love, and you.

Smooth sailing, really, for the most part. Mark was an attentive and caring "unofficial" lover. He made sure to have time to see her regularly outside of G-Force duties. He gave her small gifts. He made incredible passionate love with her at least two to three times a week.

At least until recently. Mark's priorities were changing, and unfortunately, she seemed to be as low on his list as the filling out of mission reports was to Jason.

It began with the introduction of a young, pretty woman into the technical team. She'd been assigned to the hangars, where the Sonic Jet and the Phoenix were maintained. Her intimate knowledge of Mark's #1 love in life, and her unashamedly flirtatious and tom-boyish behaviour ensured the two of them forged an almost instant connection.

She was an avionics specialist from the Rigan Aviation Institute. Her father was a retired Rigan pilot who'd flown alongside the great Colonel Cronus, which meant she'd grown up around the fly-boys and knew exactly how to swish her hips and talk her way into any pilot's cock-pit – metaphorically and literally.

Mark began spending less time with Princess and the guys, and more with Melissa and the jets. He insisted it was to make sure she was orientated into the Facility properly, and that she knew her way around all aircraft within the Neptune compound.

In her most jealous moment, Princess had snarled something along the lines of there being plenty of people within the unit that could give her the appropriate orientation, unless his idea of orientation into the G-Force project had come from his lower brain instead of his head and involved a hazing of the …

Sigh…

The rest really shouldn't be repeated by a lady.

She'd never have entertained the notion if she hadn't heard the whispers from the other techs. Their obvious clamming up into total silence as she entered the room only served to embarrass her further.

Jason had tried to convince her that it was purely innocent. He insisted that Mark didn't like bleach-blonde tramps and that he was only being a helpful workmate. She and he had too much invested in their dysfunctional romance for him to toss it all away over a pretty girl.

She had to give Jason credit. He'd tried hard to convince her that all was well and that the Status Quo would remain firmly in place. But he seemed more to be trying to assure himself that Mark wasn't suddenly a hound dog who was racing out of the Phoenix pretty much the moment they landed after a mission to give his jet to the new technician.

Her insecurity in her own attractiveness and appeal had returned in full-force. Too many times she found herself standing sideways in the mirror scrutinizing her shape and the lack of fullness in her bust. Compared to Mark's new friend, Melissa, Princess had a girlish figure. Her tiny b-cup breasts were no match to Melissa's proud double-d's. Her hips might have had a generous, feminine curve, but she wished for nothing more than the stunningly athletic build of a military fighter pilot.

She knew little about avionics. She tried to be attentive and do extra study to be able to keep up and know as much as possible about the aircraft and Mark's world. But, sadly, she simply couldn't get the new information to stick. She'd even managed to embarrass herself in front of the Rangers and Mark by trying to take part in a conversation about the latest NTSB findings in the deadly crash of a Boeing 737 outside of Vancouver. They'd been discussing the rudder-hard-over problems and the continuing problems of that particular jetliner. Princess had misread something said by one of the Rangers and offered a response that simply made her look like a fan-girl trying to fit in.

They'd all laughed, including Melissa, at her faux pas. Mark just tilted his head at her and smiled, not mockingly, but in a way to suggest he found her completely adorable. She'd immediately reddened and made a quick exit, only to be found about fifteen minutes later by Melissa, who handed her an aircraft manual for a Cessna and sniper-challenged her to study up before trying to talk boy talk.

It was obvious to anyone who took notice that there was definite female territorialism going on. The two girls really didn't like each other, for one very attractive reason:

Mark.

Melissa wanted him, Princess had him, and there was about to be a war within the project to see who could permanently land him.

Princess didn't know if she had the stamina to wage an all out war with a woman who was most definitely sexually superior to herself. She already felt she was losing the battle.

How could she compete?

These were the thoughts that drew and exhausted Swan up onto the surface this morning. She'd had yet another lonely, sleepless night worrying over her relationship with Mark. Melissa's presence had made it into the tabloids, with Princess, yet again, being portrayed as the jilted ex-lover. She needed escape and solitude to ponder the issue.

She just needed time away from all of them. A vacation. A month in total seclusion. A full month of meditation and enlightenment.

She inhaled a slow breath and raised her eyes to the skies as she stretched her arms over her head and slowly raised herself on her toes as if making a reach for the cloud above her head.

"Give me the strength, Buddha," she called on a soft whisper to the sky as she held on to her stretch. "I'm not prepared for the fight, and I don't want to lose the battle. "

"What are you fighting for, Princess?" a question whispered over her shoulder.

Her eyes flared in shock at the sound and feeling of her boyfriend's voice over her shoulder. His fingers lightly took hold of her waist and pulled her backward against his chest.

"Mark? What are you…?"

His nose nuzzled against her hair. "I just needed to see you. I searched the whole base and was told you were up here."

She turned in his hold and cocked her head to one side in askance. "Is everything okay? Do you need me back inside?"

He let his fingernails lightly graze at her waist underneath her shirt. "No," he smiled, his eyes glistening in a manner she simply couldn't decode. "I just haven't seen you in a while."

She couldn't help but frown in puzzlement. "But you see me every day."

His eyes darkened and his lip curled aggressively as he shifted one hand behind her head and pulled her mouth to his. "Not in the way I want to." He punctuated the snarled answer with a hard, and passionate kiss. His hold was tight and possessive enough to lift her feet off the ground.

She sighed into the kiss as he pulled her legs up and around his hips and slowly dropped to his knees in the sand.

"God," he hissed into her mouth as he laid her back in the sand and hovered above her body dangerously close to her. "I haven't made love to you in over two weeks. If I don't have you soon, it'll kill me."

Out in the open, with no trees for coverage, and a security camera pointed voyeuristically at them, Princess wasn't sure if it was such a good idea to let him do this. When she felt his arousal press heavily against her, finding just the right position to let her gasp, her inhibitions flew out into the ocean.

He was right, they hadn't done this in a while, and she needed this kind of reassurance from him right now.

She arched her back in the sand and gripped tightly at the soft material of his famed #1 shirt as he fumbled impatiently with her belt buckle.

She half breathed, half moaned his name as he dropped his head to her mid-drift and dipped the tip of his tongue into her navel to draw it up along the center of her abdomen toward the under wire of her Federation-issue cotton bra. As his tongue pathed it's way up her body, his hands drew her shirt upwards and over her head.

He let out a snarl as he claimed her right breast in his mouth. Her shirt was aggressively discarded behind him as he buried his face into her chest and snarled his need for her.

She groaned high, her voice pleading without words for him to keep going, and not to stop.

He unbuckled his jeans and freed himself from his denim prison.

And then ….

Mark's beeper went off.

"Ignore it, Mark. Please," she begged, taking hold of his wrist as he dropped his hand to retrieve it.

"I wish I could, Princess," he sighed dejectedly as he shook his wrist free of her hold.

"It's not your communicator, Mark. You don't have to answer it."

He exhaled as he unclipped it from his belt and kissed her lightly on the side of her mouth. "It could be important." He glanced at the small display and pursed his lips as he read. "Melissa…" he said softly on an exhale.

Princess rolled her eyes and immediately pulled herself out from underneath him. "Then you'd better go."

He tilted his head apologetically at her. "I'm sorry, Princess. It could be the jet."

She stood and flashed him an irritated look. "It always is." She leaned over him and snatched her shirt off the sand. "And then it never is."

He could sense her irritation, frustration and disappointment – Hell he was feeling it as much as she was. "Honey, if something's wrong with the jet, we could be in trouble next time out. I can't ignore it."

She pulled the shirt over her head and gave him a dismissive wave. "Just go, Mark. Don't keep her waiting."

The manner with which she spoke gave the young Commander a start. He tilted his head at her, stunned that she was being almost … jealous?

Why the Hell should she be jealous? She knew she was the only woman he would ever… even consider…

"Princess," he said carefully, wanting to get to the bottom of her problem. "I'm not leaving you now because I want to. I am only doing it because…"

"Mark," she interrupted sharply. "Just go, okay? The tide's coming in anyway."

He touched his fingers to her wrist and dipped his head to look at her face. "I love you, you know that, right?"

She gave him a weak smile and nodded. "Yes, I know that."

"Promise?"

She closed her eyes and nodded. "Go, Mark."

"We're okay, right?"

She nodded. "Yes."

He gave her a smile and kissed her gently on the cheek. "We'll continue this later." He gave her a wink, and then bounded off to answer the call of the jet's technician.

Princess watched him jog down the beach and let out a long huff as she contemplated the timing of Melissa's call.

"How did she know?" She questioned softly. The question was quickly answered as the camera's red light suddenly clicked off.

"Oh, that's low," she growled as she tucked her finger into her pocket to retrieve her weapon. "That's just low."

She stalked toward the doors to the underbase and pretty much distractedly flicked her yo-yo at it, precision striking the lens and shattering it into a handful of pieces.

"You can play your little game, Melissa. I'm not interested."

She slammed the door behind her and slowly made her way down the stairs.

"You can have him."


	2. Chapter 2

Remember ... I said clueless, right? Forgive me oh Anti-Eagle-Bashing readers ...

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Mark was still buckling his belt as he half-jogged in to the dry-dock hangar housing his beloved jet. There, Melissa and two of the Ranger's most arrogant, and gutter-minded, pilots met him.

Anson, a man well into his 20's, immediately picked up on the redressing of the G-Force leader.

"Did we interrupt something, Mark?"

He flicked his eyes to the man in annoyance, and addressed the girl who paged him. "What's the urgency, Mel?"

She waggled a single brow at him and pouted her lips in a semi-blown kiss of approval. "The untucked look suits you, Commander. You should dress down more often."

He rolled his eyes, but smiled at the compliment. "With all the machinery and cogs and ways to get pulled in to a machine around here, I think I prefer to keep everything tucked in and out of reach."

She shrugged a shoulder and raised her eyes to the ceiling. "Maybe you should share that wisdom with the Swan. Tell her to tie her hair back – unless she's worried she won't look so pretty with her hair in a tail."

"Actually," he responded with a smile, "she looks amazing with her hair tied back."

Anson gave a filthy smirk. "Yeah, with that neck. Makes you want to just run your tongue up it then bite as you give her a nice stiff…"

"Finish that statement," Mark hissed, "and I'll neuter you on the spot."

Melissa groaned, but Anson continued. "Oh come on, Man. You can't tell me you haven't thought about giving her something hard at least once in your life."

"Princess is my third in command, and a lady. She is not an object any man should think that way about."

"Is that a yes or no?"

Mark's eyes glazed over as he asked, flatly. "What was so urgent that you had to page me?"

"Nice evasion there, Mark," Melissa commented as she thumbed at her lip. "We're heading to the club tonight, feel like joining us?"

"I have plans."

Anson grinned. "Well unless she has tits bigger than Mel's and an ass that doesn't shake when you slap it, then she aint worth you missing tonight, Man."

"Maybe I don't like big tits, Anson."

Anson, Melissa, and their third companion, Alex, looked at each other, then burst into hearty laughter. "Then unless you have plans to give some to Swannie, you're in."

"Don't, Anson. Okay?"

Alex smirked and shrugged a shoulder. He addressed his team in an arrogant manner designed strictly to spurn Mark into doing exactly what they wanted. "Yeah, you're right, Mel. He's doing the Swan. She's got him whipped in to denying himself everything that doesn't involve her."

Mark groaned in frustration. "How many times do I have to tell you? Princess and I are not an item, we aren't having sex, and we aren't even making eye contact outside of G-Force." His frustration in the constant harassment was obvious. "And when you guys get it into your head that I've got far greater concerns than bedding my third, I'll be thankful. I'm single, got it?" As if to prove his point, Mark took hold of Melissa's head and pulled her in for a chaste and harsh kiss on the mouth. "There, is that proof enough for you assholes?"

The immediate silence that followed Mark's rant quickly alerted him to the fact that someone who shouldn't have heard his rant had likely walked in to the room. The identity of that someone quickly became apparent when he heard a soft voice chide: "Language, Commander."

"Princess? He all but stammered as he attempted to explain himself. "I didn't think you. I. uh …shit." He wiped his palm down his face as if to find composure. "Uh … what are you doing here?"

"Zark wanted me to get the data disk from the Phoenix. He's having problems with the download. I, unlike two individuals here, have access to this hangar." She slid her eyes to Melissa and the boys, who were snickering in to their hands. "I take it you guys don't have a base of your own any more."

Anson sidled over to Princess, who was trying desperately to maintain a friendly, and not upset, smile. "We were just hanging out wondering if Mel was interested in joining the rest of the team for drinks after shift."

"Oh," she said softly.

"Yeah," he purred as he slipped his arm across her shoulder. "How about you join us? We could do with a little eye candy."

She shuddered, offered Mark a hurt glance, and shirked away from Anson. "No. Thank you. I'd much rather scratch my own eyes out of my head than put myself at the mercy of you lot."

Mark cleared his throat. "Anson, take you arm off her."

Princess raised her eyes. "I can defend myself, thank you, Commander." She pulled away from Anson and headed towards the boarding ramp to the Phoenix. "Enjoy your night out. I'm sure you'll all have a rousing good time." She cast her eyes to Mark and gave him a nod. "I'll see you at training tomorrow."

He could see from her glance that he had totally, royally, and unbelievably screwed up. He hadn't seen that depth of misery in her eyes since her first confirmed kill way back in the beginning of the war. He groaned softly and began to follow her path.

"I'd better go talk to her, guys."

Alex shrugged and jutted his chin to the exit. "Does that mean you're coming, or not?"

He sighed, "probably not, Man. I actually did have plans."

Melissa gave him a side-smirk. "Well if you change your mind, Tiger, just call my cell. We'll have one of the boys come get you."

Mark nodded. "Which bar is it?"

"The Landing Strip."

He sighed. "I'll see, okay."

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Princess made it as far as Keyop's console before she finally let the situation totally get to her. With a long exhale that was audible and sorrowful she collapsed to the floor. On knees, with her head buried in her arms on Keyop's chair, she began to sob.

How could he have been so harsh? She understood they had to keep their affair secret, but did it have to be done in such a humiliating manner? And did he have to kiss her?! It would have been less hurtful for him to kiss one of the guys and pretend he's gay.

She couldn't even laugh at the absurdity of her last thought.

She pulled herself slowly out of her sobs and let frustration take control for a moment. She snarled, yelled and punched hard at the leather chair.

"It's so unfair!"

Mark's voice sounded apologetically from behind where she knelt.

"I think it's probably me you need to be beating, Princess. Not the chair."

"Leave me alone, Mark."

He shook his head and stepped toward her. "No, Princess. I have to apologise."

She gave a short and miserable laugh. "Why bother? If you want them to believe we aren't … that you and I …."

"…are in love…" he finished gently.

She shook her head at him and wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. "I'm having a lot of trouble believing that right now, Mark."

"I'm trying to protect you, Sweetheart."

She coughed at the use of the word, "Sweetheart", and screwed up her face as the tears began to form in her eyes. "Protect me, or you?"

He angled his head away from her defensively, but kept his eye on her. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She pushed herself to a stand by pressing her hands into the chair. She kept her hands on the chair for support and turned only her head to him.

"Saving face, I mean. Is it really that embarrassing for you to admit you and I are together?"

He shook his head. "No, Princess. That's not true."

"No? Then why say it? Why say what you did and then kiss that woman?"

He balled his fists in self-frustration and approached her. His eyes pleaded with her to believe him. "I don't know why I said what I did, or why I kissed her." He reached his hands out to hold her and grunted when she roughly evaded his touch. "I guess I'm just so sick of the constant questions, the endless hounding and accusations, that I just…" He sighed and rubbed his brow with his palm. "I don't know, Princess. I don't."

"Have you ever tried honesty?"

He blinked back his own tears and tilted his head at her. "Huh?"

"Honesty. You know what that is, don't you. Why not be honest and come out in the open?"

He shook his head. "We can't. You know why."

She approached him, this time, and took hold of his wrists in a pleading manner. "Why not? Why can't we just come out and tell them to go to Hell? I love you, you say you love me …"

"…You know I do."

"Then let's stop the charade. I can't do this anymore. I can't sit back and suffer through all this innuendo and gossip. I can't watch you cozy up with every woman on the planet just so you can prove I don't mean anything to you." She squinted her eyes and dropped her head onto his chest. "I'm tired of being mocked and embarrassed."

He pulled her close and pressed his lips to her head. "I'm so sorry, Princess. Why didn't you tell me you felt this way?"

"Because," she said, her voice muffled in his shirt, "It was never so far out of hand like this. I could handle it with the press. But not like this."

He touched his finger to her chin to raise her face to his. "I'll make this right, Princess. I promise."

She inhaled shakily. "When?"

"Soon."

She shook her head and pulled away from him. "Sorry, Mark. That's not good enough. If you love me. If I mean anything to you at all, you'll stop this charade…" She tried to pull away from him, but was firmly trapped in his arms. "…You'll stop hurting me."

"I wish it was that easy, Princess. I do. But…"

She looked up at him. "Then I guess that's it."

He gasped. "Meaning?" He already knew the answer to that question.

She pulled away from him and held his hands in a manner to say goodbye. "I'm not playing this game any more. I'm out of it. I'm done."

He shook his head. "No, Princess. Please. Don't do this."

"Tell Melissa she won."

Mark shook his head in real confusion. "What does that mean?"

She shrugged. "She'll know what it means."

He pursed his lips and shook his head. "I'm not going to let you walk away from us, Prin. I just need some time. I need to be able to do this right so noone will get hurt. Just give me some time."

"You've had nearly four years, Mark. How much longer could you possibly need?"

He gripped her upper arms tight and moved his face close to hers. "I promise you this will work out, Princess. Just believe in me. Please. I promise you this will all end."

"I wish I could believe that."

"Please."

She dropped her head.

"Please," he repeated, urgency in his voice. "I just want to make sure you'll be safe."

It was absurd, she knew it, but what could she do? She had to agree.

"Promise me. Promise me this ends … now."

"I promise."


	3. Chapter 3

**warning *** This first bit is a little on the naughty side ... but get through it because the real story starts at the second part of this chapter..

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Mark expelled a loud, exhausted grunt as his naked body flopped down onto the mattress of Princess' on-base bed. He buried his face in the pillow as the last shudders cursed through his body and the final moans escaped his lips.

"Good God," he sighed through the goosedown pillow.

Princess' giggle as her lips met with his shoulder took all further words from his mouth. He pressed his hands onto the mattress beside him to prop himself up high enough to roll onto his side, where he reached up to run his fingers along Princess' sweaty cheek.

"It's been too long."

She turned her head to kiss his fingers and finally let her head fall heavily onto the softest part of his chest. "You've had other things on the go, Mark. We can't expect to find the time all the time."

"But we should."

She snuggled her body closer and drew her leg up across his. "There are more important things, I guess."

He chuckled low. "Right now I'll concede there is nothing more important than this."

"Typical guy response."

He snorted after a short laugh. "Oh, come on. You can't tell me you don't enjoy it."

"Well," she sung long with a smile. "I'd have to say it's one of those mission parameters I won't argue with my Commander over."

He couldn't help but laugh long at her response. He quieted as her lips gently kissed at his chest and set one of his hands behind his head to contemplate matters.

How could he possibly convince Princess to keep things on the down low, and assure her that she was the most important woman in his life?

There were dangers associated with dating him; surely she understood that. She was a target already, she had escaped death and torture only because there was the belief she meant nothing more to him than a third in command.

If Zoltar knew… And of course he'd have to know _something_, then she'd be in horrific danger.

She'd be brutally tortured … or worse … just for Zoltar to make him pay.

He couldn't put her in that peril.

And then there was Anderson.

Fuck, that would be a conversation. He'd already warned Mark that Princess was strictly off-limits – probably for the same reason – so the truth coming out, after nearly four years of deception, would be about as bad as a Spectran mecha barreling through the school district on a P&T night.

He must have zoned out for longer than he thought, because Princess finally poked her finger into his chest and called his name.

"Penny for your thoughts, Mark."

He smirked. "I'd be charging too much."

"You're thinking about my ultimatum, aren't you?"

"Get out of my mind, Princess."

She giggled softly. "I just know you too well. When you're in heavy thought your right eye squints just a little."

His brows shot in to his hairline and he coughed playfully in contempt. "No it doesn't."

"Yuh, huh, it does. And when you're ready to pop Jason, you get a bulging vein on your temple."

"You think you know me that well?" he challenged as he pushed her off his chest and moved atop her, settling himself between her thighs. "Then tell me. When I am desperate for the attention of the woman I love, what happens?"

Her eyes widened as she felt the answer to the question flick angrily against the innermost part of her thigh. Her breath entered her lungs almost painfully in a surprised gasp. "Uh…?"

"Hmm?" he hummed as he dipped his head to bite at her bottom lip. His teeth drew it out as he withdrew his face only a couple of inches from her mouth. "You're so full of answers and insight, then tell me."

"Then … your …." She sighed again and arched her chest toward him as she felt him press himself into her. "You … um."

He seemed pleased by her inability to coherently answer his challenge and rocked slowly against her in a long teasing promise of what he had in store for the next little while. "I expect a complete report on my desk regarding that topic in the morning."

She nodded in complete and total submission. Her head rolled backward and mouth gaped as he continued his deliberately slow attack.

He let his tongue drag heavily along her jaw and chin, and then suddenly stopped his movement.

She hiccupped and dropped her gaze to his to ask why he stopped. His returning gaze was dark, lustful and full of decision. There was a cross between Eagle and Mark on his features that was both terrifying and exhilarating.

Her jaw quivered as he lowered himself down on to his elbows and shifted his hands into her hair.

"Move in with me, Princess."

The comment was as far out of left field as she could imagine, and it made her frown in disbelief. "What?"

His eyes didn't leave hers. "Move in with me."

Her body was desperate for him to move _within _her, but her mind was somewhat confused and refused to play along by allowing it to coax it out of him. Instead it forced her to ask: "Why?"

He gave her a solitary, hard rock of his pelvis and responded with a husky. "So I can do this to you every spare moment I have."

She shook her head. "No, Mark. Don't make a decision like that when we're like this."

He laid himself heavily on her, making short movements against her. "Why? Do you think I'm not in control of my own thoughts?"

"Not now, no." she replied through a heavy lust-laden whisper.

His hand took a fistful of her hair and pulled her head backward to reveal her neck to him. He sunk his teeth into her skin and sucked hard as he forced a few heavy rocks against her. "I'm in total control," he declared as he separated his mouth from her neck to reveal a large, purple mark. He snarled in self-satisfaction at the marking of his territory. "I know what I want, what I need, and what we should do, Princess."

She wasn't exactly in any position to respond lucidly, however she panted and nodded in complete agreement with anything he wanted.

He continued trying to make his argument, while driving the point across with slow and deliberate movements against her.

"Anderson won't separate us if we prove we're serious about this."

She nodded and clutched at his hips. "Yes, Mark," she sighed. "Yes."

He pressed his forehead to hers and gave her long thrusts of his hips. "God, Princess …."

The chiming of her bracelet caused her to groan painfully, and him to order her not to answer it.

"I have to," she moaned in an echo of his earlier concession back on the island. "It's my com-link."

He shook his head. "It's one of the guys, ignore them."

She bucked underneath him push him away from her. "What if it's the Chief?"

"It's not," he demanded harshly.

"But…"

The voice of the man in question suddenly boomed over the communications link.

"G-3, respond. This is Chief Anderson."

The voice made Princess gasp in embarrassment and Mark groan in disgust at the timing. He rolled off her and flopped onto his back.

"You'd better answer him."

"I'm sorry, Mark," she whispered as she raised her link to her lips. "G-3 ears on, Chief. Sorry, you caught me napping."

He didn't seem amused, nor irritated, but his order was delivered short and in a manner to suggest she'd better not argue.

"I need you in my office in five minutes."

"Five?" she questioned meekly, hiding the face of the bracelet from Mark's moan of pure disgust.

"Did I stutter?"

"But I really need a shower, and…"

"It can wait, Princess, my orders can't."

She moaned and rubbed at her brow. "Big Ten, Chief. I'll be there in five."

She dropped her hand to the bed and sat with her head hung low. "Great timing."

Mark rubbed her thigh sympathetically. "Welcome to my world, Princess. It's usually me getting the call."

She nodded and reluctantly pulled herself out of the bed. "It sounds like I'm in trouble."

He propped himself up on an elbow and watched as she dressed. "No, he's probably got something fun for you."

She rolled her eyes. "Fun to him is always bad to me."

He smirked as he watched her seek out her bra and yanked it off the pillow. He twirled it teasingly around his finger. "So this weekend?"

She snatched the bra off him and leaned forward to fall into it. "Excuse me?"

"You'll move in this weekend."

She stood up and jiggled her shoulders as she clasped the back of the bra. "You were serious about that?"

"Yeah." He responded flatly. "You didn't think I was serious?"

She blushed. "Well ….uh."

"So yes, or no? Will you share my rent, my bed and my life?"

She pulled her shirt up over her head and smiled. "Can I think about it?"

"You need to?" He seemed kind of shocked.

She crawled on to the bed and muzzled her lips against his. "Okay, Mark." As quickly as she was on the bed, she was off it and pulling on her jeans.

He leaned hack onto his palm and watched her appreciatively. "So what will I do without you tonight?"

She buckled her belt. "Sleep?"

"I'm really not tired."

She blinked in surprise. "You're not?"

He shook his head.

"Um. Take the boys up on their offer and go to the bar."

A smile twitched at his mouth and within a second he was on the phone arranging to be picked up from the hangars.

Princess groaned, shook her head, and then quickly kissed him before bounding out of her room to meet with Anderson.

G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3

Princess should have known the severity of the situation by the manner with which Anderson demanded she meet with him. Generally he would give her leeway, and certainly give her a few moments to shower when calls came though – unless, of course it was a Spectran attack, where it was a matter of urgency. Today, however, he was insistent, and she was called in alone.

That was never something good. Never.

Skidding into the doorway to see a group of four people quietly and seriously discussing something was about as bad an image as one could expect to see.

This was not going to be a good conversation.

Anderson immediately raised his eyes to her and pointed to a chair beside the Tactical Officer of the Rigan Defense Force.

"Princess, thank you for being so quick."

She nodded a greeting to all present and set her hands in her thighs. "It sounded urgent."

"It is." He took a breath. "And it is imperative you don't speak of this to anyone -- especially your Commander."

Her lips pursed and eyes widened a little. "Okay."

"We have an assignment for you that will begin immediately, and last perhaps a week." He removed his glasses and polished the lenses with his handkerchief. "I need to know if you are up for it. It will be dangerous, and you will be alone … " He checked the lenses for dirt, then replaced the glasses on his nose. "And you will have no contact with the team, or Centre Neptune."

She shrunk a little in her chair, bit on her lip, and then sighed an affirmative.

He pushed a file folder across her desk and nodded to the Rigan Official to brief her.

Carrington, a former member of the Rigan Royal family, which had since been dethroned, spoke quietly with a husky voice. "We have reason to believe that Colonel Cronus survived the Rocket explosion on your mission GF01…."

"I know the one, Sir," she said quickly before he could finish. "None of us, especially Mark, will forget that assignment."

He nodded and continued. "Intelligence spies within the Spectran community have received reports of the Colonel's presence in the dungeons of a base deep inside the Arizona desert." He motioned for her to open her file, which she did to reveal a set of grainy photographs of a virtually unrecognizable individual. "Satellite images of the base suggest there is heavy activity in the base, and is likely the staging area for their newest mecha."

"A replica of your Phoenix, if I understand it correctly," another gentleman added gravelly.

Princess switched her eyes between the two men and then dropped them to the file. "Is this all you have to go on, Sir? It is hardly substantial enough to call in G-Force for a full-scale rescue. I can't even make out enough of this prisoner's features to determine gender, let alone identity."

"Which is why we're asking you to go it alone," Anderson answered sternly. "If this is truly Colonel Cronus, then he's been in their dungeons for nearly three years. He's going to be weak, and likely in need of medical aid. We don't think it's wise to send G-Force in on a full-scale rescue mission that could likely see him killed."

She opened her mouth in an "ahh" response, but didn't say anything.

Carrington continued for Anderson. "We chose you, Swan, for this solo-mission because you fit the criteria perfectly. We need someone who has no personal ties with Cronus. We need someone with intimate first aid knowledge and training. Someone who is a technical expert in explosives, and has the patience to step back and wait for the perfect moment for attack."

Princess frowned. Anderson was definitely so much better at briefing. This guy really was stumbling through it. "Jason's our sniper," she offered softly. "I would say that he has the most patience of all of us."

Anderson raised a brow, Carrington laughed hard. "The man is a walking time bomb. He is reckless and impulsive, as is your Swallow."

Princess dropped her ear to her shoulder, shy and embarrassed to be laughed at. "I suppose so."

Anderson raised a hand to silence Carrington. "Princess. You are the chosen member of your team to perform this task. I trust you will agree and follow our instruction closely."

She nodded. "How about the team, Chief? Will they have any knowledge of what is happening?"

"Negative," he responded sharply. "They will be informed that you will be taking a two week sabbatical within the Himalayas."

Her shoulder tipped up to meet her ear and she looked down toward the floor. "Mark's not going to like that."

Carrington thumbed at his nose. "Well your Commander doesn't have to like it, Swan. Those are the orders, and he will have to accept them." The edges of his mouth curled in an arrogant smirk. "Unless the two of you have plans together."

"Carrington, enough," Anderson warned as he watched Princess shrink and redden in her chair. "For the umpteenth time, the two of them are not seeing each other."

He rolled his eyes, "please, Anderson. Take a look at the girl's neck, she didn't have that two hours ago."

Princess gasped and covered the purple spot on her neck. Anderson narrowed his eyes and glared at Princess for confirmation. "Princess?"

She shook her head. "Mark's and my relationship has not changed since we were last questioned on the matter." She bit her lip and raised only her eyes to Anderson. "I am dating someone on the base, which is where I received this."

Carrington cut her off. "And your Commander's concern about your whereabouts?

"…Is because he is my Commander, and he needs to know each of our movements in case of emergency." She cast her eyes to Anderson. "You know how he is, Chief. One: He's not going to believe that excuse for an instant. And two: He is going to want more information than that. It's especially true if I simply take off without notice."

Anderson nodded knowingly. "She does have a point there, Carrington. Mark is extremely perceptive and is going to know something is going on behind his back."

"Then intimate that it is a birthday surprise or some other such."

Princess smiled, "his birthday isn't for six months."

Carrington grunted. "Then he'll just have to accept what he's told."

Okay," she sighed softly as she wondered how annoyed Mark would be at this sudden turnaround. "Just hope that Spectra won't attack while I'm away."

Anderson shook his head. "Intelligence suggests they are weeks away from launching their attack."

"I hope so."

Carrington stood from his chair and took a position behind Princess so that he could read the mission file over her shoulder. "Your bike has been retrofitted for this assignment with short flight-burst capability and a single fire Phoenix attack."

Her eyes widened in excitement. "Really?"

"You have limited use of these weapons, so don't go ahead and practice with them."

She excitedly flicked through the weapons specs in the file, oohing and ahhing at each of the artist's renderings. "Will these be weapons I can keep?"

Anderson shook his head. "Probably not, Princess. They're incredibly expensive and will likely weigh the vehicle down too much. They're good for this, but not for permanent use."

"Oh," she sighed in disappointment. "What a shame." She pressed her fingers to her lip in thought as she scanned the mission parameters, and quickly looked up at Anderson with wide eyes. "You want me to infiltrate?"

He nodded. "Which is why the mission could take up to a week."

She shook her head, widening her eyes with worry. "No. That won't work, Chief. They know who I am and what I look like. They'll be on to me in a heartbeat."

Carrington cupped his chin with his forefinger and thumb. "That is a risk we need to take."

She gasped, stunned at the response. "Oh yeah. Easy for you to say." She looked pleadingly at Anderson. "Chief. You can't send me in there alone and expect me to walk out of there alive. We have to at least let the guys know to be on standby."

Carrington answered for Anderson. "That's not an option, Swan. If we put the team on standby, your Commander will have them on the base and destroying everything we've planned for the last six months. I will not have Cronus' life in that much risk."

"Oh," she hiccupped. "but it's okay to put me at risk to save a man who is so damn sexist that just the mere thought of being saved by a woman would kill him."

Anderson tsked. "Come on Princess, don't be like that."

She stood up fast and folded her arms across her chest. Her posture reeked of tantrum, but her voice was soft and hurt. "Sorry, Chief. I am just surprised to learn that I mean so little to all of you."

"That's not true, Princess." His eyes rose to the other man in the room. "What Carrington meant to say, was that we've had this assignment meticulously planned with the parameters needing to be precise with no deviation. If we involve the guys right now, it will be blown to Hell."

Carrington smirked. "And Cronus is very important to this Federation, Princess. I hope you understand the gravity of losing him again."

She nodded and sighed. "He's also Mark's father, Mr. Carrington. I think that's far more important than his role within the Federation."

"Yes," he said inside a smirk. "Imagine how grateful your Commander will be if you bring home his father."

Her eyes narrowed. "That's not exactly the motivating factor, Sir. "

"No, of course it isn't."

"I am more concerned with an innocent life and his son's need for him."

Anderson stepped in between Princess and Carrington, making sure to have his back to the latter. He touched his hand to her shoulder. "You don't have to do this, Princess."

Carrington snorted. "Yes she does."

Princess raised her eyes to Anderson. "I'll do it, Chief."

Anderson lowered his head to look into her face. "Are you sure, Princess. I will understand if you say no. This mission breaks about nine out of ten G-Force protocols."

"And I probably won't survive."

"I'm sure you will."

She nodded and picked the file up off the chair. "If I don't…" she sighed and walked to the door. "Tell him … how much …"

Anderson shook his head. "I'd say you tell him that yourself when you return, but I am not going to encourage you."

She smiled and turned back only to offer a playful wink.

"Wish me luck, sir."


	4. Chapter 4

At what point in the years the Anti-Smoking laws were put to rest and the entire world populous began to take up that filthy habit again was a mystery to the G-Force Commander.

Chances were that Jason had something to do with it. He constantly defied any mandate ordering a non-smoking venue and lit up at every opportunity. Of course noone was going to give the mighty Condor a fine, so who were they kidding thinking they could give one to the rest of the world.

…At least that is what Jason would have anyone believe. He was the smoker's champion…

That wasn't to say that Mark had any real problem with anyone smoking. Recent studies had proved that second hand smoke really wasn't as much of a risk factor to disease as the Health organization would have anyone believe. It didn't really irritate him all that much.

Hell, he dove headfirst into far, far, worse when in battle alongside a detonator-happy swan. Burning tobacco smoke was a definite blessing when compared to TNT, blood, electricity and burning flesh … or even Tiny's flatulence for that matter.

The only problem to Mark with regards to cigarette smoking was that it aided and abetted the effects of alcohol in much faster ways than alcohol alone. If he went in to a smoky bar with the Rigan Rangers, there was little chance of him walking out of the place sober.

Which is why he asked Melissa to come and pick him up for the night. He assured her he would take a cab home, but had no desire to spend double on cab-fare when she was already at the base ready to go.

She was there within 15 minutes of his call.

The striking thing he found about working at a military-style facility and spending time off-hours with staff, was just how incredibly different people were off-base. The most dullest and boring of individuals could prove to be the most stunning, and vice versa.

Melissa was no exception.

He had been hanging around her – in a work capacity – for near on four months. In that time he had seen her in coveralls, in form-fitting military-style tank-tops and jeans, and in the ever-flattering Airforce flight suit. Her long blonde hair was always pulled back into a ponytail with stubborn bangs falling over her eyes, and her face and hands were usually streaked in some sort of Aviation fluid.

Not necessarily unattractive to a fly-boy – actually he found it kind of hot – but not exactly ravishingly stunning either.

So imagine his surprise to see her all scrubbed up and made up wearing an outfit that should have graced the covers of Playboy.

This girl was really stunning when she took the time to primp and preen.

She flashed a ruby-red smile at him as she approached him and gave him a friendly hug and kiss on the cheek. "Glad you changed your mind, Commander. You won't regret it, I promise."

The first thing that hit him was that Melissa wore the same perfume as Princess. He closed his eyes and pictured his third as he returned the chaste kiss. "Hey Mel. Thanks for stopping by to get me."

She hummed in appreciation of his musky smell and took a few seconds to look him over before taking his arms in hers to take him to her vehicle.

"Gee, Mark. Any chance we might get an opportunity in the future to see you in something other than the numbered shirt and white jeans?"

He let out a snort and the side of his mouth curled into a smile. "If you were to see me in anything besides this, Mel, it would be in birdstyle, or my birthday suit."

Her red lips pursed in time with the waggling of her brows. "Hmm, birthday suit, Tiger? Don't tempt a single girl."

He laughed. "Oh no. I would never get drunk enough to start parading around naked, thank you." He rolled a shoulder and opened the car door for her. "I have an image to uphold."

She slipped in underneath the steering wheel and coyly chewed on her cheek. "I didn't say you had to show anyone else, Mark. The only audience that needs to be present is …"

He laughed to interrupt her. "Careful, Mel. That's sexual harassment."

She let out a short grunt and rolled her eyes. "No, it is a come on. Sexual harassment would be me pouncing on you and demanding you drill me to the wall."

Mark didn't quite know how to respond or feel about that comment. Was she coming on to him, or just playing a guy's game?

The answer came when he took the seat beside her and her hand met with his thigh as he pulled on the seatbelt. He set his hand atop hers and let out a breath.

"Mel. I have a girlfriend."

She pursed her lips in mock disappointment, but kept her hand in place. "Princess?"

He nodded and took her hand off this leg. "Yes, Princess."

She shrugged and turned on the ignition. "I can't say that's a total surprise."

"It shouldn't be. She's an incredible woman."

Melissa smirked in a manner only a woman could – in a bitchy way. "I wouldn't really define Princess as a woman, Mark. She's still only a girl."

"She's the same age as you, Mel."

"Age doesn't define your womanhood, Mark. Experience does." She kept her eyes on the road. "And I don't think she's had much experience beyond you."

"That's really none of your business."

Her look darkened mischieviously, but she kept her eye on the road ahead. "What about you?"

"Classified."

She pressed her foot hard into the brake to come to an abrupt stop at the lights. "Oh no. No. No. No. You can't be serious."

He looked genuinely puzzled. "What? I didn't say anything."

She turned in her seat to face him. "You can't honestly tell me that your only experience has been with Princess."

He pointed to the road ahead. "Uh, green light, Mel. Can we go?"

She groaned. "Oh that is just so devastating to hear. The Eagle. Hot, proud, devilishly handsome, prey to 90% of the women on earth, and you've had only one conquest."

"The weather's nice tonight, isn't it?"

"Mark. Honey. Tiger. Commander. Let me take control of you for one night. Let me show you what's out there, the possibilities…"

"No" he responded sharply, more in embarrassment than anger. "Jesus, Melissa. You're two years younger than I am. How can you _Possibly_ think that you can teach me anything?"

She chuckled low. "I've been working in a man's world for five years, Mark. Don't think the guys haven't taught me a thing or two."

He groaned. "Too much information."

"Come on, Mark. I promise you I won't tell Princess."

He was silent for a few moments. Once she started to drive again, he took a deep breath. "I'm flattered, honestly. But I really don't think it's a good idea."

"Why not?"

He slid his eyes to her and offered her a one-brow-raised stare. "Princess is the Swan, Melissa."

"And?"

"What, are you new?" He seemed flustered. "She's the Swan. I wouldn't want to mess with any woman, Melissa, let alone Princess. She is not as timid as all you people seem to think she is."

"I could take her."

He had to laugh. "Hell. I couldn't take her on, what makes you think you'd stand a chance?"

"Show her a bug and she'll recoil in a second."

He grunted. "That's not funny."

"She doesn't have to know. Just let me show you what is out there, and what you're missing. She'll never find out."

"And if she does, both of us will end up with a charged yo-yo up our asses."

She smiled. "That sounds like you're actually a little interested."

"What?"

"Well," she hummed. "You're not flat out saying no. You're finding excuses."

"Okay then. No."

She shook her head and pulled in to a parking spot in front of the bar. "We'll see where the night leads us, then."

He shook his head. "No, Mel. I love her, I have no intention of playing around on her."

"Love, and sex are two different animals." She countered. "I'm not asking you to love me, just fuck me."

He grunted and opened the car door sharply. "And I'm asking you to drop it."

She smiled as she checked her reflection in the rear mirror. As she watched him enter the bar, a smile broke out on her mouth.

"Mark. I take that as a challenge." She applied gloss to her lips and smacked them together. "Sorry Princess. He'll be mine by the end of the night…" She dropped the gloss into her purse and opened the door. "You shouldn't have let him out alone."

*****

Anderson was right, as usual. The bike was feeling a little sluggish with the new weaponry on board. She could still pull more than 200 on it, but the control was not as precise as she was used to. Still, if it would save her life at some point during this mission, the extra pull on the bike would be worth it. It would just mean she'd have to concentrate a little harder on the task at hand.

It had been approximately two hours since her meeting with the Project heads and Carrington.

He was a pompous bastard if she ever met one. It surprised her that Anderson let him take control like that, but she accepted how the meeting transpired. She'd learned how unimportant she was to anyone outside of her team, including Anderson, and that Mark's father was still alive.

What a wonderful gift for him if she succeeded.

She had a feeling this would be her last hurrah, her last big act on this world. Death in this mission was fairly guaranteed, but she would first ensure that Cronus got out safe.

That was her promise to herself, and to Mark.

Mark.

She was slightly disappointed to find he'd organized with Melissa to go to the bar with the boys. As much as she hoped he would call one of the pilots, she had a dark feeling it would be _her_ that he called.

She knew that Melissa would jump at the chance to spend some time with him.

Mark and alcohol, however, was a pretty bad combination. He had an awfully high tolerance for the stuff, but he also liked the taste of his whiskey on the rocks enough to be able to drink enough in an evening to totally obliterate even the Mighty Eagle's implant induced forced sobriety.

And Mark was an affectionate drunk. A very affectionate drunk. Some of the most exhilaratingly passionate encounters were after a night drinking with Jason and the guys.

It lowered his inhibition and fired his passion. That's how their sexual relationship actually began. He lost control on her, as he did every time he drank. It scared her to think of what might happen if he was alone with Melissa and a bottle of Canadian Club… But she had to trust him. Mark was easy with her because of their relationship. He was in control enough not to embark on something seedy with another woman.

Especially Melissa.

Tramp.

She imagined that woman would try something … anything to her Mark between her legs.

Ho.

Bitch.

Slut.

Princess gasped and felt the bike wobble dangerously in her grip. She'd been too busy thinking extremely unladylike thoughts about her newest and most dangerous competitor to realize she'd hit the gravel and was thisclose to becoming road splat.

Not a good beginning to the mission.

Die before she even gets there.

She sighed heavily and put her concentration back on the road.

Here she was, ten minutes away from a fast induction into the Spectran good squad, and Mark was drinking and having fun in a bar, oblivious to the fact he would probably never see her again.

She inhaled a long sigh and merged into a line of vehicles that appeared to be making their way to the base.

It was time for her first day of work in green.

She dug her feet hard into the footrests of her civilian bike and ducked down low for more speed and control.

Her last thought as the Swan of G-force was of her Commander.

"Wish me luck, Mark. I'm going to need it."


	5. Chapter 5

Melissa peered over the rim of her glass of Vodka and Cranberry juice at the slightly tipsy G-Force Commander. She'd heard many rumours of the high tolerance level of the Eagle and Condor, but had never actually been witness to it.

He'd easily drunk near half a bottle of Canadian Club Whiskey in the two hours they'd been in the bar, yet he seemed only a little bit fuzzy.

This was going to be a very, very tough assignment if she couldn't get him inebriated enough to forget about that damned Swan for an hour … or two … or.

"Divorce the glass, Mel," Andrew, one of the younger pilots on the Ranger team, joked as he placed a fresh drink in front of her. "I got you another."

She bit on the rim of her glass and smiled cheekily at him as Mark excused him self to use the mensroom. "I'm pacing myself, Drew."

Anson threw back the remaining contents of his glass of Jack Daniels and wiped clumsily at his mouth with the back of his hand. "Yeah," he burped, "she's on a mission, Drew. We gotto give her a break on the substance tonight."

Andrew's brows rose curiously. "Oh? Solo mission, Mel?" He looked around the club. "Which means there must a good target somewhere in this club."

She smiled and leaned back into her chair. Anson, however, was the one who answered.

"She's got missile lock on the Eagle."

Andrew, who had been mid swig on his whiskey, spat the entire mouthful onto a passing waitress. "Oh, shit, sorry love," he mumbled and received a glare of disgust in return. He shrugged and turned his attention back to Anson and Melissa. "You can't be serious."

"Deadly," she purred.

Andrew shook his head. "No, Mel. Don't. That's Swan territory there."

"I'm not frightened of that little girl."

He coughed. "Uh. I would be. I've seen what that girl is capable of."

Melissa ran her hand through her hair in an arrogant manner. "Well, she'll take it out on him, not me."

Anson laughed into his Jack's. "What's the bet she'll take out his jet in revenge."

"Are you talking the one between his legs, Anson?"

Both Melissa and Anson erupted in to laughter. Andrew looked worried.

"This is a cruel game, Melissa. Don't play it."

"Hey," Anson countered sternly. "It's what her dad wants and what Cronus would have wanted."

Andrew blinked. "Huh? The Colonel would want his son fucked with like that?"

"No," Melissa purred. "My father was one of Cronus' most trusted pilots and friend. The both of them wanted Mark and I to make it as a couple, and I am only fulfilling that desire."

"Yeah, " Anson added. "It's a dead man's wish that his son have a woman as a wife, not a pathetic little girly, no tit, cockroach fearing wimp."

Andrew grunted. "I don't know what the problem is with the two of you and your lack of respect for Princess. She is more woman than you could ever hope to be, Mel. Mark's lucky to have her."

Anson elbowed Melissa. "Looks like someone's got a thing for the Swan. Maybe you should make a play for her, Drew. Mel can have Mark, you Princess, everyone will be happy."

"Cronus must be rolling in his grave right now," Andrew spat. "You're fucking with his son's mind and could potentially break up the only reliable fighting unit left in the Galaxy. Leave it, guys, please."

Melissa batted her lashes at him. "Are you going to go tell on me, Drew?"

He shook his head. "No, you're in this on your own. Alex and Anson might be willing to take part in this, but the rest of the squadron will stay the heck out of it."

"And you're speaking for the rest of the team?"

Masaki and Shinji, both senior pilots and the worst partiers of the Rangers stumbled past Andrew, arms across each others shoulders. Shinji grunted, burped and threw up at the youngster's feet.

"Fuck, sorry, man."

Andrew gagged in disgust. "Jesus you two. You're supposed to be setting an example to the rest of us."

Masaki smirked and slurred almost incoherently, "yeah, setting an example of how to party." He threw an arm across Andrew's shoulder and dragged him across to the bar. "Have a drink, Drew."

Melissa had a single brow raised as she watched the trio leave. "Drew's got one hell of a rod up his ass."

Anson chuckled, "fuck him."

She winked. "I have."

"So. Back to Mark. What is your game plan?"

G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3GG3G3G3G3

Mark leaned on the wall beside the door to the men's room and rubbed his forehead. The alcohol was beginning to work its way nicely into his system and he was beginning to feel his usual burn for the woman in his life.

It didn't help that Melissa smelled exactly like her tonight. It took all of his willpower not to bury his nose into her neck and just imagine she was Princess for an instant.

Why did he come out tonight? Why didn't he just grab a bottle of wine and a blanket and take Princess up onto the island for a romantic evening under the stars?

Okay, he didn't for two reasons: Princess was with Anderson and it was high tide.

And what was up with Melissa? Why was she making moves on him like she was?

He knew they were friends…colleagues, but not at any point did he make her believe there could be anything more than …

The kiss!

He kissed her in the hangars.

Surely she couldn't have read more into that than there really was. He kissed her to make a stupid point.

He groaned.

He really didn't know women all that well, did he?

He let his eyes quickly scan the scene to see if he had privacy and lifted his com-link to his lips.

"G1 to G3, Princess are your ears on."

Silence.

He frowned. "Princess?"

Anderson's voice answered on her behalf. "Commander, your third is on communications black-out right now. Is there something I can help you with?"

Mark immediately frowned. "What's wrong with her, Chief? Where is she?"

"She's been sent on sabbatical for a couple of weeks."

"Why? What did she do?"

"That's really between she and I, Commander…"

"And me, seeing I am her Commander and I need to know when she is being reprimanded."

Anderson was silent for a moment, but eventually took a breath. "It's a political maneouvre, Mark. She was specifically requested to attend a private summit, so we sent her."

Mark huffed out a doubtful breath. "Alone?"

"Yes, Commander."

"With no warning to the team?"

"Obviously that's an affirmative."

"And on communications black-out."

"You're perceptive this evening for a man with a blood alcohol reading of .14."

"Stop reading my implant read-out will you? Give me some damn privacy."

"Is that everything, Mark?"

He sighed in doubt, frustration and worry. "Yes, Chief."

As he lowered his wrist down along his side, Mark's eyes narrowed dangerously. Princess was on a mission, she had to be. Anderson couldn't give him a cock and bull story like that and actually expect him to believe it.

But why didn't Princess give him a heads up? If she was moving headlong into a mission, surely she'd have the foresight to ensure the team was ready to move out at the first beep of a birdscramble.

Was she trying to prove something to him?

Was she trying to show him she was better than Melissa?

He shook his head. Princess didn't know about Melissa and how she came onto him in the car.

The smell of the woman he loved wafted across his senses. The smell shot to his groin as he closed his eyes and tasted the air.

God, she didn't need to prove anything to him… or anyone.

"Mark, we thought you'd fallen in," Melissa chuckled as she thrust a glass of whiskey into his hand.

His eyes snapped open to awaken his senses to the fact Princess wasn't with him. He shrugged a shoulder and gave her a sheepish smile.

"Was trying to call the woman."

Melissa rolled her eyes. "Hey, forget about her for now. You are all ours tonight, Tiger."


	6. Chapter 6

There was an odd kind of electrical feeling that cursed through Princess' body when she steered her bike in to the underground parking lot of the suspected Spectran base. She wasn't sure if it was physical or a psychosomatic response to her own morbid fear, but it was most definitely alarming in all kinds of detrimental ways.

She adjusted her short blonde wig and inhaled a shaking breath as she climbed off her bike.

For the first time in as long as she could remember, she was out of her civilian uniform. Especially retrofitted to be able to take on a swan tranformation, her knee-high laced boots and matching leather ensemble was formfitting and flattering, and functional for work inside the base.

It would fit perfectly underneath the green uniform of the Spectran Goon. She hoped that there wouldn't be an attack and she would have to face off with the G-Force team. Mission parameters ordered that she was not to break her cover until Cronus could be secured, so she wouldn't be able to reveal herself to them.

How terrifying.

The boys would literally kill her.

She shuddered and joined the march of new recruits into the main building, where they were met by Zoltar's 2IC, Mala.

Mala scrutinized the more than 100 new employees individually as they walked in through the doorway. She pulled aside three or four of the 30 women and demanded they enter a different section of the building for Devil Star training.

"Damn," Princess thought as her time with Mala drew near. She was not to be inducted into the Stars, she had to remain in the lowest of the goon battalion.

Mala finally regarded her. Unlike the others, she scrutinized her with physical force, grabbing her by the hair to reveal the purple mark on her neck.

"You're stained," she groaned low as she released her painfully. "I can smell filth on you."

Princess' eyes widened at the accusation – she'd showered before she left. She rubbed at her neck and tilted her head at Mala.

Gosh how she'd like to stick a yo-yo in the woman's heart.

"The same could be said for you," she hissed under her breath.

Mala, who had moved on to another prospect, spun toward Princess and glowered at her. "What was that, you insolent little fool?"

Princess said nothing, but her glare spoke a thousand unpleasant thoughts.

Mala snapped her fingers at a guard, then pointed at Princess. "Take this one out of my sight. Throw her into the pit with the animals."

The guard saluted. "Kill her, ma'am?"

Mala shook her head. "No. I think she needs to be shown what happens to insubordinate little bitches, first. Then I will determine what will become of her."

Princess gasped.

Uh-oh.

The guard grunted an affirmative and dragged Princess by the arm towards the very center of the complex. He wished her good luck as he roughly tossed her through a door into a dark room.

She hit the floor hard with her hip. As she propped herself up onto her side, she took a brief look around her. In the darkness she could make out the figures of several people.

The smell of them was horrific.

One of them sniffed the air and chuckled low. "How sweet. Fresh meat."

Princess cowered in the dirt.

"Chief … What have you thrown me in to?"

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The smell of her was all around him. He had to have her.

He grunted and shoved her hard up against his bedroom wall. The alcohol had shattered his control, his senses and his resolve. He couldn't resist her for one second longer.

She was going to be his, like she always should be. The mighty Eagle was going to take his prey like he'd never taken her before.

He bit hard on her neck as he ripped the flimsy fabric of her shirt to get to her breasts.

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.

She was thrown roughly against the wall, front first, with her arm screwed painfully behind her back.

Their smell was all around her. It was intoxicating in the most horrific way. Worse than a men's washroom after a night in the clubs, the smell of feces, urine another bodily product best left unidentified, sickened her.

She felt a filthy body press up against her, shoving her harder against the wall. Her cheek scraped against the mossy stone wall.

She had to fight back or she'd be taken.

Teeth bared down on the mark her lover had so passionately given her only a few hours earlier.

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"Princess," he grunted in a manner so desperate and lustful that it caused his body to pulse in a greater need for entrance into her.

She sighed and pleaded for him to take her.

He roughly tugged at her panties, growling as they snapped in his grip and hung off to one side.

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"Mark," she silently cried in desperation for help.

There were hands all over her.

Pawing.

Scraping.

They tugged and pulled her in every direction.

"Mark!"

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"Princess!"


	7. Chapter 7

It was only a few short, blinding moments, and Princess felt the freedom to turn her back to the wall and slowly slide downwards onto the floor.

Tears stung at her eyes and her breath came and left fast as she shakily ran her mudded hand over her brow to pull her bangs from her eyes.

Damn her instinct! Damn it to Hell! She was supposed to be weak, relegated to the lowest of low duties within the dungeons. She was not supposed to be able to defend herself like this – she'd be sent into battle against G-Force if they knew she could fight…

Damn.

She could be wrong, she might have misheard it, but how could she? The snap of a broken neck was too distinctive to misread. Even more distinctive was the sound of a last gasp of air as a lifeless body struck the ground followed by the sickening crack of a splitting skull.

She'd killed her attacker – well one of them, anyway. All it took was a high, hooked kick of her leg as she cried out for her Commander to save her.

So one was dead. The other, she estimated, three had immediately moved away to their respective corners. The attack was over, thankfully. She'd held off a brutal sexual attack before it could travel below her waist…But she'd received a few marks on her face and neck that would definitely be questioned by the team on her return.

She rubbed at her eyes, blinded still by the searing burn of frightened tears.

_Damn you, Chief. How could you do this to me? How could you send me in alone._

_Alone_…

Her breath sucked in hard as she allowed a sob to escape her chest.

She couldn't help it. Couldn't help but let her weakness surface. She was scared. Spectra was rough, tough… tougher on their employees than their captives.

Reassuring, she guessed, if they discovered who she was.

That would be a unique way to find Cronus ….

She hiccupped again and jerked against the wall as she heard movement from one of her attackers.

"Stay away from me," she demanded as she tried to shuffle closer into the wall. It was futile to try and escape, she thought finally, while ramming herself harder against the wall. Her boot sole kept scraping along the floor as she pushed, the scuffle echoing throughout the cell.

As a hand grabbed at her ankle, she grabbed at her own wrist, ready to punch in a birdscramble to the team.

"I can't do this alone," she squealed as her ankle was tugged to drag her to the center of the room. "I need help, guys….."

Her punch of the birdscramble was halted by the loud clunk of the metal door. It swung open with a loud clang of metal on metal.

"Where is she?"

Princess was still on the floor, sitting on her hip, when the door opened. She shielded her eyes against the bright fluorescent light of the hallway and let her last remaining sobs welcome the newcomer.

It wasn't Mala, but the figure at the doorway was just as important to the Spectran Forces.

Zoltar.

He took a deep inhale of the cell and immediately coughed in disgust. Undeterred, however, he strode in and crouched before Princess. He pinched at her chin with his thumb and forefinger and forced her to raise her head to him.

"Did we have fun, little girl?"

She shuddered in his grip, but attempted to grin defiantly at him. "Please, may I have some more?"

He was quiet for a second at her response. "More?" His lips stretched into a smile and he threw his head backward to laugh. His hand dropped from her chin and he clicked his hand in the air to a guard at the door. "Oh I like this one! Take her out of here, get her washed up."

The guard, and a partner, swarmed either side of Zoltar to get to her. They each took an arm and dragged her to her feet. She grunted with the pain of a bruised rib, but hid it as a growl.

Zoltar wasn't fooled.

"That is what you get for insulting my sister, prisoner. Granted, it is not my preferred method for reprimand, but it works." He caressed his gun holster at his hip. "Nothing is more effective at commanding your troops than a dead soldier."

She gained her footing and raised her head to look down her nose at him. "Why waste a bullet when you can torture them into doing what you want?"

His stance asked her to clarify. So she did. "Death is merciful and swift, Lord Zoltar. Torture is far more an effective tool. With prisoners and insolent little assholes."

He let the side of his mouth curl into a smirk. "For once I am pleased with one of Mala's rejects. The women she leaves me are pathetic and weak." He turned his back on her and flicked his hand to his side to tell his men to bring her. "You, I can use."

She let out a purr. "Against G-Force, Sire?"

He paused and looked over his shoulder at her. "No. Women prove useless against them…" he turned his head and continued to walk. "Unless I need one of them to sleep with the Condor to gain information. I have a challenge for you."

She shrugged out of the guard's hold, insistent she support herself as they walked. "A Challenge? How can you offer me a challenge if you don't even know what I'm capable of."

He laughed. "A dead animal and little evidence to suggest you were in their cell for half a day?"

She gasped. "Half a day? I was only in there for an hour."

Zoltar smirked and flicked his eyes to her. "You were there for exactly twelve hours, soldier. Noone usually survives the pit, so we didn't think to retrieve you." He looked to the railing as he took hold to walk down a flight of stairs. "You were remembered only because we heard you whimper for a savior. Mark, I believe."

"My lover," she sighed. "Long since passed."

"G-Force?"

She widened her eyes and then nodded. "Yes, G-Force."

"Anyway," he continued. "If you can survive the creatures from the pit, then you have more strengths than you appear to. I want to find out what you can offer me."

She pursed her lips and sighed.

He walked her to the cell-block area of the base. "We will start with something easy. With someone you can use your insolence on."

She raised her head quickly as they approached a sterile looking cell. Inside it was a man grunting in exertion as he finished a set of push-ups.

"Get on your feet!" Zoltar demanded to the man as he kicked his boot on the steel bars. "There's royalty in the room."

He let out a laugh of contempt and drew himself into a proud stance. "Yes a royal pain in my ass."

"Yes," he droned as if having played this game more than once. "In your ass, how couth."

Princess looked through her mudded bangs at the gentleman in question. She had to suppress a gasp realizing it was, indeed, Colonel Cronus.

And he looked in perfect, physical condition.

Cronus looked past Zoltar to regard Princess. He grunted and jutted his chin at her. "A new plaything, Zoltar?"

Princess almost cowered, but Zoltar pushed her toward the cage. "Yes, a gift, Cronus. She's got as smart a mouth as you, and won't be so foolish as to be grabbed through the bars like you have done with your previous twenty guards."

Cronus lowered his head to gaze through his brows at her. "And you bring me a woman?"

"Once we scrub her up, she'll make a pretty decoration for your quarters, I'm sure."

Cronus smirked, "give me a legitimate reason to shift the stick, eh?"

"Crass. Very crass."

Cronus narrowed his eyes, crossed his arms over his chest and blew her a kiss. "Just you and me little girl. We'll play a few fun little games together."

That's when he noticed the yellow face of a bracelet he helped design.

_Princess? Was that the Swan? _

_Had G-Force finally come for rescue?_

No, this wasn't explosive and flashy enough for a full team operation. This was covert, it had to be. She was barely recognizable.

He looked into the face of a badly beaten Swan and had to wonder exactly what plan Anderson had for this attempt.

Or had she been captured?

Where was Mark?

Princess felt the questions he was asking and raised her head arrogantly. "Don't even bother cleaning me up, Sire. A filthy pig like this doesn't deserve to see a clean, fresh smelling woman."

Zoltar groaned at the remark. It was cute, but stupid. He had to give the girl credit, she was trying hard.

"No, soldier. The sweeter smelling you are, the more it will be a torture to him. He's not had a woman in quite some time." He ran his finger from her collarbone to her navel in a tease for the former Ace pilot. "Maybe you can work some of your feminine charm on him."

Princess had to widen her eyes at the suggestion. The thought was actually quite sickening.

"I'll see what I can do."

Cronus sneered. "You'd have better luck me getting hard for a guy, Zoltar. She's not quite my taste. Although keep her for the Eagle, you'll never know."

Zoltar smirked. "When your son is in with you, then, perhaps you can share her."

"And you say I'm crass? Really."

Zoltar flicked his hand to a guard. "Get her cleaned up, Soldier. This is her new Station."

Princess bit on her lip and cast her eyes to Cronus'. "I'll see you later."

His returning gaze was hard, and one of understanding. "Count on it. I'm ready."

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It was all a dream. A very bad dream.

It had to be.

He only remembered small snippets of the "dream", but it was enough to set his heart racing in panic that it just might have been more than just a play of the mind.

"Fuck," he breathed gruffly as he pressed his forearm across his eyes to block out the brightest and most painful parts of the sunlight from his vision. "God tell me…"

The rest of his sentence came out along an inhale as the scent of a woman beside him tickled at his senses.

_Princess? Please, God, tell me it's Princess._

His arm shifted cautiously from his eyes as he heard the softest groan of a waking woman beside him. He rolled his head on the pillow to take in the form beside him, and gasped in absolute horror when he was met with the blonde hair of a woman who didn't belong there.

"Oh. Shit!" he yelped as he immediately leapt out of the bed and backed up against the wall. "Melissa?!"

Melissa opened her eyes and smiled lazily at her naked lover. "Hmmm," she hummed in appreciation. "Morning, Tiger."

His mouth opened and closed as his mind searched for something to say. "What … Where … How … What are you doing here?"

She propped her cheek on her fist and circled her finger on the mattress in front of her breast. "Oh don't tell me you can't remember, Mark."

He raised his hands in front of him in a defensive manner. "Uh. Actually no, not a lot."

Her lips pursed in mock-disappointment. "Way to make a girl feel good."

He coughed and started to pace, still naked, in front of the bed. "This is not good, not good. I can't believe this is happening … that it even happened at all." He stopped his pacing and looked at her with wide and panicked eyes. "What the hell happened?"

She shrugged in a nonchalant manner, "I would think that's kind of obvious, wouldn't you?"

His eyes narrowed briefly, then widened back into their panicked expression. "We had sex … Fuck!"

"Pun intended, I assume," she droned as she sat up in the bed and let the sheet fall to her hips.

Mark paused, his eyes caught at chest level, where her bare double-d's sat in a manner too perky for something so heavy. He finally shook his head and tried to look everywhere but. "Please cover yourself up, Mel."

"Same to you, Mark," she muttered as she flicked her hand to him in indication of his nakedness.

He suddenly reddened and snatched a pair of draw-stringed Simpson's pyjama pants off the dresser. "This is not good. Not good."

She groaned as she watched him pull on the pants and tighten the drawstring around his hips. "What's done is done, Mark. Don't dwell on it, just deal with it."

His lip curled in frustration and he punched both fists on the bed to lean down closer to her. "Deal with it? Fuck, Melissa. Do you have any idea just what we've done, what's going to happen?"

"Oh for fuck's sake. We had sex, Mark, that's all. What is the big deal?"

He coughed. "Big deal? What is the big deal? I just screwed around on the Swan."

She groaned and pulled the sheet up over her chest. "Her name is Princess."

He straightened his back and tilted his head aggressively at her. "I know what her name is, Melissa."

"Well you seem more concerned about the wrath of the girl than about how she's actually going feel about this."

He ran his hand down his face. "I know exactly how she's going to feel about this. It'll destroy her."

"Pretty sure of yourself aren't you."

"The woman is in love with me," he snarled. "She believes in me and trusts me. If she finds out about this, then … Hell … it'll shatter all of that."

"What's done is done," she said with a shrug.

He was silent for a second at her calmness at the situation, and then suddenly launched into a heated tirade. "I really don't think you have a full comprehension of what is at stake here. Not only will I lose the woman I love…a woman I am this close to proposing marriage to … but this could potentially ruin the entire G-Force unit!"

"Oh don't be so overdramatic, Mark," she groaned. "This sort of shit happens all the time. The world doesn't explode, people don't die over it. She'll cry, get upset, call you an asshole, probably punch you in the face …" she paused to giggle, "or in the balls, and then she'll get over it."

His face screwed up in disbelief at her, but he didn't say anything.

So she did.

"Princess is a controlled girl. She'll be professional about it. I wouldn't worry yourself."

He finally groaned. "You have no idea, do you?"

"What? Yeah I do. She's going to get mad, yeah. But she'll get over it."

He shook his head. "G-Force, Melissa. G-Force is a unit built on trust. We do most of our most deadly attacks through trust in each other. If we aren't in synch, if there is an ounce of distrust or disbelief we will fail. We could kill each other."

She groaned again. "Are you vying for an Oscar, Mark? This is overdramatic even for you."

He pressed his hands into the wall and hung his head. "I can't believe this is happening."

Melissa slowly drew herself from the bed and approached him from behind. She set her hands on his hips and leaned close to his ear. "It's done, Mark. Rather than worrying about it, let's make the most of it."

His eyes flared as he spun and shoved her away from him. She stumbled backward with a yelp.

"Stay the hell away from me. Don't touch me, don't make any more passes, and don't…" He inhaled sharply as a gasp. "You can't tell anyone about this."

She picked herself up from where she stumbled in to the bed and raised a single brow. "Are you kidding me? I just took the ultimate conquest, and you are telling me not to boast about it?"

"Just don't okay? If Princess finds out, I want it to be from me, not from the rumour mill."

She laughed. "You're actually going to tell her?"

"Well it's better from me than one of the damn pilots you screw around with."

"I wouldn't call it screwing around as much as I would term it a learning experience."

He turned away from her. "Call it whatever you want. Loose is loose."

"Which," she snarled in her own defense, "is exactly what you were last night. Mark, if I wasn't as "loose" as I was in my youth, then you wouldn't have been so pleasured that you were begging for me to do it to you again like you were last night."

"God," he groaned. "I think I'm going to be sick."

"And you can talk. You took what was offered without a second thought to the woman you say you're ready to marry."

He answered her with a sharp glare.

"If you ask me, Mark. I don't think you're at all ready to commit yourself to one woman. You told me repeatedly last night that she wasn't enough for you. That's why you screwed me last night."

"I was drunk," he hissed.

"And you know what they say about drunkenness, Mark."

"What?"

"That the truth comes out. Everything you were too scared or proper to say comes right on out."

He shook his head. "Bullshit. I love her."

"I'm not disputing that fact, Mark. I am saying, though, that you need more woman that she can offer you."

"Which I suppose I can get from you?"

She gave a lazy grin and nodded her head. "I think I proved that to you last night."

"I barely remember it."

She dared walk toward him again. "Then let me show you now. You're already in too deep, Mark. What's one more day of passion?"

His eyes flicked over his shoulders as he felt her press herself against his back. Her lips grazed along his shoulders as her fingers found their way into the waistband of his pants.

"One more time won't hurt any more than it already has."

He shuddered as her fingers found him and lightly toyed with the hair down there. "Melissa, please don't."

She took hold of him and purred into is ear. "Your words and body are at war again, Mark."

His breath caught at the sensation of her hands on him, then at her words. His lip curled and he let out a low snarl. "Get away from me."

His words, and the way they hissed between his teeth, immediately caused her to pull away from him.

He spun and tilted his head dangerously at her. In his eyes was a dark glint that promised a painful retribution if she didn't back the hell away from him. "At war, again? Again? What did you do to me last night, Melissa?"

She raised a hand to her mouth in a manner most Princess-like and shook her head. "Nothing you didn't want to do."

"Bullshit! I remember, vividly, telling you I wasn't interested."

She blinked. "At the beginning of the evening, yeah. But as the night…"

"Don't blame the alcohol. I have been drunk more times than I'll admit, and I've always had complete control over my … over …" he flicked his fingers between the two of them. "Over this kind of thing."

"Until you had a real woman offer herself to you."

"Don't start that shit, Melissa. Princess is so much more than you, or any other woman…"

"Which isn't what you were saying last night when you had me up against the wall, Mark." She leaned her rump on her hands against the wall. "You were complaining that she lied to you, that she'd taken off on a mission and…"

He gasped. "A mission? Alone?"

"That's what you said."

He clenched his eyes shut to remember what it was that gave him that idea. "She's not on any mission …she …" His eyes flashed open.

_Anderson!_

_He told him Princess had taken off to the Himalayas._

_That was bullshit._

He curled a lip. "Fuck!" He began to search out his communicator, which he'd obviously thrown somewhere during the course of …of the night. "Where is it?!"

She showed him her wrist, where is communicator hung loosely. "Looking for this?"

"What the Hell are you doing with it?"

She gently unclasped it from her wrist and passed it to him. "You told me you would give up G-Force for me last night in a fit of passion. So you gave it to me."

He groaned loudly in self-disgust. "Give it to me."

She giggled. "Hmm, you said that, too."

"Melissa, please." He clasped his communicator to his wrist and raised it to his lips. "G-1 to Anderson, Chief come in."

Anderson answered almost immediately and sounded somewhat distracted. "Anderson here. What's the problem, Mark?"

Straight to the point: "Where's Princess?"

"I thought we established all this last night."

"Answer me, Chief."

Anderson sighed and answered, flatly: "She's on a summit in the Himalayas, location undisclosed. She will return in a couple of weeks."

"And you expect me to believe that?"

"Yes. I do."

Mark drummed his fingers on the wall. "Well I don't. Is she on a mission?"

"No."

"Why is she on communications black out?"

"So her signal can't be traced."

He growled low. "If there is a danger, then the team should be on stand-by, Chief. Why aren't we?"

"Because she can handle herself without you or the others holding her hand."

"Unless she's outnumbered, Chief."

"Which won't happen on a Summit, Commander."

He groaned and rubbed at his brow. "Chief, I have a bad…"

"Don't," Anderson interrupted not wanting Mark to jinx things by suggesting there was a bad vibe surrounding the operation. "She's fine and under watch from the Federation. If there is anything you need to know, Commander, I will inform you. Until that moment, this conversation is closed."

Mark grunted.

"Is that all, Commander?"

"Yes, Sir."

Mark dropped his arm to his side and let out a displeased breath. "She's on an operation all right."

"Which is what you were saying last night, Mark," Melissa offered simply to remind him that she was there.

He flicked his eyes to her. "So she's out risking her life for something, and I'm fucking someone behind her back. Great boyfriend I am."

Melissa shrugged. "You're a guy. Hard to find one that's completely faithful."

"I liked to believe I was."

Melissa took a breath and approached him again. This time her motives were less sexual and more reassuring. "Look, Mark. I can see this is messing you up so I'll promise you something. I promise you I won't say anything about last night. If you want to tell her, then go right ahead, but I won't."

He gave her a thankful nod. "Thank you."

She quietly began to gather her belongings and dressed without saying much more.

Mark lay his forehead against the wall and breathed loudly, obviously still upset by the course of events over the past 24 hours.

Finally she gently touched his upper arm. "Don't dwell on it, Mark. Just forget this ever happened and focus on being the best lover you can to her now. If she never finds out, she'll never be hurt."

"Yet it'll eat me up for the rest of my life."

She shook her head. "No. Not that long, you'll forget soon enough."

He didn't shift as he heard her leave the room and then his shack. It wasn't until her heard the revving of her car's engine that he finally yelled an obscenity at the wall and punched at it.

Princess could never find out about this.

Never.


	8. Chapter 8

Well the showers inside the Spectran base weren't exactly to the standard of those at the Federation, but they were no less effective in taking away the dirt and grime of a fight – and definitely as effective at pounding against bruised flesh in a massage to take away the ache.

She actually felt remarkably good as she stepped out of the stainless steel shower stall onto wet concrete in front of the mirror. Her face creased at the reflection looking back at her.

Mark was going to have a fit when he saw her.

Her face was black and purple, as were her upper arms and torso. While there were no abrasions or lacerations on her at all, the contusions were evidence she'd fought a good fight. There was an ache on her right breast that she was hesitant to investigate. She knew the origin of the ache and had no desire to see a perfect imprint of an impressibly imperfect set of teeth. She hoped there was no break in the skin as she gingerly set herself into her bra.

But she was good, all things taken in to account. The mission was on schedule, and she was okay – as was Cronus. The both of them could definitely put up an intense battle when the time came, then Cronus could go home; get to know his son; Mark would have his father back; all would be good.

She wondered how Mark was doing this morning, and how he would accept the news of her being whisked away to some place in the Himalayas.

He wouldn't believe a word of it. He wasn't a fool. That's why he was Commander.

No doubt he'd spent much of the evening trying to track down some information. Perhaps he enlisted Jason's help. Jason was sleeping, on and off, with the Tactical Advisor's daughter. He'd gotten information off her in previous assignments. It likely wouldn't be too long until there'd be an explosive arrival of the team.

The thought made her smile.

She strode back towards Cronus' cell with a confidence of a woman with a plan. Her escort, a burly looking goon with matted blonde hair and a body odour as strong as Tiny's after a long work out, was practically glued to her right side.

She could feel his sneer at her, and her jasmine-scented natural perfume. Chances were he didn't work alongside a woman too frequently. His attentions in his leering was unsettling.

A simple kick to the right spot would bring him to his knees, so she wasn't too concerned.

Cronus was waiting patiently for her return with his shoulder leaning up against the bars. He smirked as she arrived and thumbed at his nose.

"I'd like to say you scrub up well, woman, but you really don't."

Her eyes glinted in mischief. "I don't exactly have a man to impress right now, Colonel. You should see me when I make an effort."

He smirked. "Oh I bet."

The escort who had been doing his darndest to make Princess uncomfortable grunted and smacked a long wooden baton-style weapon on the bars. "Feel free to use that image when you're spanking the monkey, Prisoner."

"Nice," he retorted with a snort. "Might work for you, asshole, but she really ain't my type."

The goon slapped Princess' ass and smirked. "Maybe I'll do her against the bars for you later to help you along."

Cronus smiled in a manner so typically Eagle. "Something tells me you won't be the one doing anything to anyone against the bars." His eyes flicked to Princess. "She looks fit enough to kick your ass."

"Yeah," he muttered as he spun on his heel and headed towards the doorway to leave the two of them alone. "whatever you reckon."

Princess had a brow raised as he exited the room and slammed the door shut behind him. "Tell me something, Sir."

"What?"

"Is sex the only thing you men ever think about?"

He shrugged. "When you haven't had any in as long as most of the men here, yeah. You know what they say: The more you talk about it, the less you're getting."

Her lip twitched in a smile. "Then I'm not saying a word."

Cronus let out a hearty laugh. "That tells me a lot, Swan. Tell me," he pointed to her neck. "Is that love-bite a gift from my son?"

She reddened. "Uh, you mean you can decipher a bite from this mosaic of bruises?"

"They're pretty distinctive in their own right."

"Ahh, okay."

He raised a brow at her. "So, is it?"

Her head tilted. "Is it what?"

"Is it from my son?"

She turned away from him, not willing to meet his eyes. "Um, that's classified."

"Which is a yes." He pulled himself from his lean against the bar and threaded his arms through to lean on his forearms. "Good to see the boy has an appetite after-all."

She cleared her throat. "Uh, yeah. So, um, how are you?"

"I think the answer to that question is obvious, wouldn't you?"

Her eyes flicked up to him. "I mean physically?"

"Ahh, yeah. I'm okay. All things considered, Zoltar treats me pretty well in here."

"I'm surprised, to be honest, that you're still alive."

He shrugged. "I'm one Hell of a bargaining chip for when the time comes, Swan…"

"Princess, please."

"Yeah. He's been using my captivity as a tool for getting what he wants from Planet Riga. Seems to have worked okay for the time being."

She frowned and tilted her head in mild confusion. "Then how come the Federation has only come to learn this information now?"

"They've known for a while, Princess."

"But. But I don't understand. Mark would have had the team here in a heartbeat to retrieve you if he knew you were alive."

He shrugged. "Then why are you here alone, Swan? Why is my son not breaking down the walls to rescue his old man?"

Her lips pursed. "He still doesn't know. They asked me last evening to take on this mission solo."

The admission made him cough in shock. "What? They finally get confirmation of my capture, and they send the woman to come get me? Alone?"

"Sorry to disappoint you, Sir."

He pulled away from the bars and palmed his forehead as he stalked in a purposeful pace. "I'm screwed. I am absolutely screwed."

"No you're not," she pleaded in defense. "I will get you out of here in one piece. I promise you."

He had to laugh. "By yourself? With all due respect, Swan. You really are a talented and accomplished fighter, but there is no way in Hell you can take on this entire base and get me out of here in one piece."

She folded her arms across her chest. "Would you have the same reaction if one of the boys was sent in my place?"

He nodded, "if it was the Swallow or Owl, then yeah. I would give Jason and Mark credit, but not a woman." He leaned in to look closely at her through the bars. "This isn't a little tea-party, Princess. They won't let you walk out of here in one piece."

"I don't care about me, Sir. My job is to get you out. If I don't walk out of here I couldn't care less."

"Oh how heroic of you," he sneered. "If they figure out who you are, you won't just be killed. They will rape and torture you, then throw you to the beasts, all on national television."

She sighed a shaky breath. "As long as you make it out."

He waved his hand dismissively at her. "Whatever. Now I have to formulate a game plan once you get me out of here so that I can keep you alive."

She tightened the fold of her arms and looked down her nose at him. "I don't need your help, Sir. I will do fine to get you out by myself." She turned her back on him and turned her head to look across her shoulder, not at him, but close enough to make him aware of her attention. "Or maybe I'll just leave you here to rot."

"And disappoint your lover?"

She shook in a single laugh of contempt. "What he doesn't know, Colonel…"

"You wouldn't dare."

This time she actually did look over her shoulder at him as she set her hands on her hips. "Try me, Sir. Just try me. As far as they know, it's only speculation he has you. I can deny your existence easy enough."

The side of his mouth twitched into an impressed smirk. "Jason's rubbing off on you, I see."

She turned and slinked toward the cell. She ran her finger coyly across the bars as she walked past him to check the hallway for oncoming guards. "Not Jason, Sir. He's rubbing nothing on me. Now Mark on the other hand…"

He had to laugh at her snark. "Ahh, you will convince me yet, dear Swan."

Her bracelet began to chime, and she had to jump skittishly to check the hallway. Thankfully, there were no guards onroute. She quickly answered as she kept her eye on the door.

"Uh, G-3 ears on."

"Princess, it's Anderson. I need an update on your assignment."

She frowned down at the communicator and rolled her eyes at Cronus. "So much for communications blackout."

He chuckled at her.

She sighed as she answered her Leader. "I'm on track, Sir. I have been assigned to Cronus' cell."

"Is he okay?"

She smirked as she wandered back to the Colonel. "As asinine as always. Would you like to say hello?" She raised her communicator to Cronus. "Say hi to daddy, son."

Anderson answered quickly. "Yes. Is it safe?"

Cronus responded for her. "Anderson, what the fuck were you thinking sending the woman?"

"Hello to you too, old friend."

"When she gets me out of here, and I have to save her ass to get her back to my son alive, I swear I will punch you in the face."

"Princess will do fine to get you out, Cronus."

"You better pray she is, John, or chances are you'll lose both of us."

Princess roughly pulled her wrist from Cronus and snarled as she drew it to her own mouth. "Are you sure I just can't leave him here to fend for himself?"

Anderson was heard to chuckle. "Play nice together will you? In no time you'll be back here and he can lead that bunch of hellions he calls the Rangers."

She giggled in time with Cronus' groan. "It'll still be a couple of days, sir. I need to rig this place for implosion."

"Good. Good. Is the bike performing well with its new fit?"

"Sluggish, but she'll do fine on escape."

"Good. We'll go back on to communications black out until further notice." He paused. "Oh, can you please page your Commander and assure him of your duties in the Himalayas?"

Cronus raised a brow; Princess smiled. "He didn't believe you?"

"What do you think?"

"Will do, sir. Is that all?"

"Yes, Princess. Good luck and remember: your scramble is activated. Use it only in emergency."

She shook her head. "As always, thank you. See you in a few days."

She ended the communication and shrugged a shoulder at Cronus as she strolled back to the door to check for another guard. She couldn't help but feel abandoned having to call Mark to assure him she was safe. Now she truly was on her own. "It's awfully quiet down here. I'd have thought you'd have more than one guard down here."

"I haven't since the end of the first twelve months," he answered distractedly as he checked the condition of his fingernails. "I guess Zoltar figured I wasn't going anywhere."

"He seems trusting."

"He claims to be a good judge of character, Swan. I suppose he feels he doesn't need to question his employees."

She let out a laugh. "Oh, I don't know. I've seen him in action. He can be pretty ruthless."

"When it's warranted, I suppose." He nodded his chin to her communicator. "Are you going to call Mark?"

"Later."

"No. Please, do it now."

She shook her head. "Too risky."

"Please. Let me actually hear that he's okay."

She shrugged and leaned against the doorway. "G-3 to G-1. Mark are you on?"

His answer was immediate. "Princess. Are you okay?"

She shook her head and smiled. "I'm alright. Anderson just hurried me to this damn summit thing to rub shoulders with some dignitaries I've never heard of."

He was silent for a moment. When he answered, it was cautious. "A summit? Are you sure?"

Her eyes slowly raised to Cronus, who was looking at her curiously to see if she would cave and tell him all. She sighed softly. "Yes, Commander. I'm sure. I'm just playing the pretty little Swan and being bored."

"So you're safe?"

"Very. There's no need to worry about me, Mark. You just watch yourself and stay away from Melissa."

There was silence a lot longer than Princess would have liked. So she prompted him with a soft call of his name. He answered quickly.

"I'll stay away from her, Princess. Although I'm confused as to why you'd say something like that."

"Something warns me her intentions with you aren't exactly honourable."

He offered her a laugh that wasn't exactly genuine. "My virtue is safe, Sweetheart."

Princess' brow was raised at his shaky response, but she shook it off. "I should go. I'll be back in a few days."

"Keep in touch, Princess. I miss you."

She sighed, slightly embarrassed to be having this conversation in front of Cronus. "I miss you too, Mark."

"I love you."

She heard the snort from Cronus and all but groaned "You too."

She ignored Cronus snickering and sighing playful "I love you" comments from the cell. She folded her arms across her chest and tapped her foot as her lips pursed in a contemplative manner.

Something wasn't right.

He never said "I love you" over the com link.

Cronus noticed her sudden darkness and pressed her for information.

"Something wrong?"

She inhaled deeply. "I don't know, Sir."

"He sounded okay, Princess. A man in love, a sappy man in love …" he paused in realization of her concern. That definitely wasn't normal for Mark. "Who is this Melissa?"

Princess raised her eyes to him. "Captain Western's daughter, Sir."

"Oh. Shit."

Her head tilted heavily to the side. "That concerns you?"

"If she's anything like her mother, yes." She growled low. "That woman bothered me for months for an affair while I was married to Amanda."

"Mark's mom's name is Amanda?"

Cronus continued. He leaned up against the walls via his forearm across a bracing row at chest level. "Woman damn well got me drunk and had her way with me nine months before Melissa came along."

Princess blinked, stunned. "Which means Melissa is … uh …"

"Unconfirmed rumour, Princess. She claimed I was her father, but it was never really proven."

"Oh, dear." Princess frowned. "Did Amanda know?"

Cronus sighed. "I would never abandon my family under any circumstances, Swan. I may be a chauvinistic asshole, but I am not a deadbeat father."

She pursed her lips. "She kicked you out…"

"On my ass. Forced me to leave my only son." He rubbed at his brow. "I can't say I blame her, really. I'd have done the same to her if she was the one with loose lips … so to speak."

She shook her head. "That's kind of gross."

He shrugged. "Yeah."

Princess thought about it for a while, considering the follies of the father, and how easily it circles around to the son. She then broke into a small smile and had to giggle. "So. Chances are she's chasing her half-brother to try and get him in bed."

He raised a brow and let a smile play at his mouth. "Yeah."

"That's just funny."

Cronus pushed himself off the bars and pointed at her as he turned to use the small porcelain toilet in his cell.

"He'd better hope, for all of us, that he hasn't done it already."


	9. Chapter 9

Her plan hadn't exactly gone off without a hitch – Hell it hadn't even gone half-way right - but she was still in fairly good spirits. She walked into the Ranger's one-time base, that had been converted to Masaki's and Shinji's main party headquarters, and exploded into the main shower block, where her two partners in crime were showering.

"Mission accomplished, guys," she announced as she turned on the tap and walked, fully clothed, into the stream of hot water. "Phase one is complete."

Anson wiped suds from his eyes and peered at her with a narrowed gaze as he fashioned his hair into a shampoo Mohawk. "You got him in the sack? Damn, girl, you are good. After the way he was behaving last night, I didn't think you stood a chance."

She ran her hands over her hair and lightly squeezed her hair of water. "It wasn't easy."

Alex opened his mouth to take a mouthful of water from the shower stream and spat it at the wall. "So how was the White Shadow? Worth the trouble?"

She groaned and leaned against the wall, letting the full shower stream beat down onto the front of her shirt. "Honestly? Not really."

Anson coughed and leaned a hand on the wall in a manner to suggest he wanted every little tiny bit of information about the inadequacy of the famed Eagle leader. "Share the info, girl."

She kicked at the water and leaned heavier against the wall. "It was all going great. He had it hard and was as aggressive with me as I could have hoped. We were so close to actually doing the damn deed, and he got all "Oh Princess, Princess" on me." She pointed at the smirk on Alex's face. "Not funny, Alex. It doesn't do much for your confidence when a man is calling out another woman's name."

Anson chuckled and thrust his head under the water to rid his hair of shampoo. "Keep going, girl"

She groaned. "Yeah, well. So he's practically biting chunks out of my neck and chest and tearing at my clothes, and then just stops. He starts trying to push me away saying he just couldn't do it to her …" she adopted a whiney voice. "How he loves her and wants her to be the mother of his children and how he would die for her." Her voice returned to normal. "You know that typical drunken hero shit."

"And?" Alex pressed as he fumbled with the soap and watched with horror as it fell to the floor. He looked at Anson, who pointed at the floor with a smirk. "Fuck you, I'm not picking that up, man."

"Anyway," she groaned in continuance. "So I told him I was Princess. I was his lover and we were role-playing."

Anson raised a brow. "And he fell for it?"

"Well he was pretty drunk, Anson. And you did spike his burger with four ecstasy tablets."

Alex looked at him accusingly. "What, you trying to kill him, Anson?"

Anson waved his hand defensively. "The dude's got high tolerance to that shit cause of the implant. You really, really have to dose him to get him high."

"Nice, man. Nice."

"Don't worry, it won't kill him. I saw Jason pull this shit on him once. How do you think he ended up with Princess in the first place?"

"Ekky?"

"Damn straight. All the woman had to do was brush past him in the bar, and he pounced."

Alex looked confused. "So you all saw him drag Swannie home by the hair like a Neanderthal, and he still thinks he can deny it?"

Anson shrugged, "Jacked if I know. I guess Anderson's got some rule against it. You know Mark, boy scout pretty boy."

Melissa grunted. "Uh, guys. I'm still telling my story here."

The boys chuckled. "Sorry Mel, keep going."

She inhaled to continue. "Anyway, so he started getting all hot and passionate again, and then, just as I got his pants off, splat. He hit the floor."

"In what way?"

"He passed out. Out cold. No performance from the Eagle."

Alex frowned. "So you didn't get the long and slick from Mark?"

Anson chortled, "You mean short and insignificant."

Melissa cleared her throat in Mark's defense. "They call this man Commander for a reason, Anson. And I don't think it's all about his leadership abilities."

Alex raised a brow and pointed crotchward. "Reputation is accurate, Mel?"

"Understated by a couple of inches."

Both guys immediately burst into laughter. "Damn! So he is like the old man, then."

Melissa raised her hand and shuddered. "Oh, guys, I don't want to know."

Alex turned off the shower taps and reached for a small towel to wrap around his waist. "So why'd you not come back till now, girl?"

She smiled dangerously. "I spent the night with him. In his bed. When he woke up he freaked."

"So you told him you'd ridden him all night?"

Her head ticked to one side in the affirmative. "Oh, yeah. He honestly believes he screwed around on Princess."

He chuckled. "You little tramp."

"Hey, he feels as guilty as shit right now."

Anson smirked. "That's as good as we can get right now. And with Princess on assignment for the next couple of days, we have time to play with."

Melissa frowned. "Is she actually on assignment, or in the mountains like Mark was told."

He shook his head. "She's in something really deep, Mel. I caught the end of a conversation at the hangars when the ex-Prince of Riga was leaving. They've got her ass deep in some shit that they really don't think she's coming home from."

Melissa tilted her head and stared at him with wide eyes. "And they told the team something else?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Wish I had more info on it. It sounds pretty dangerous if you ask me." He looked between his two team mates who were suddenly looking very guilty and remorseful. "Oh come on, this is Princess. As soon as she gets into trouble she'll send out a birdscramble and the boys … Mark … can go play hero."

He turned off the shower and walked brazenly out of the stall as one of the hungover lieutenants staggered into the bathroom. He grunted and waved at the trio as he turned the shower on and stepped under it.

"Yeah, hey Shinji, rough night?"

"Fuck off."

Anson rolled a shoulder and made to end the conversation. "Don't worry, guys. She'll get out and it'll be game on. For now we just need to set some more groundwork to make this a lot more interesting."

3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3

The tip of Princess' tongue peeked out of the side of her mouth as she gently used both thumbs to manipulate the modeling clay into her desired design. She could claim boredom made her do it, made her play with a substance best left un-molded and in its natural, or preferred, state, but she really couldn't say she was bored.

Much.

She'd spent a little under a week, thus far, exploring the factory-style Spectran base trying to mind-plot the correct and most dangerous positions for her small charges. During this time, she also felt the need to perform a small amount of Intel for the Federation big wigs. It hadn't been exactly difficult to gather such intelligence, all she really needed to do was stand all innocent, batt her lashes and ask questions in a purely … blonde … manner. The posted goons shared the information freely.

Easy.

Too damn easy.

Spectran soldiers really weren't all that bright, she deduced after the second day. If anyone had walked into Centre Neptune and started pulling the same thing, they'd be under heavy surveillance and suspicion immediately.

Princess knew for a fact she wasn't being monitored. She'd visited the security station many times and found little or no evidence to suggest Cronus' cell or she were being watched. Her belt buckle, which would indicate when there were bugs within a 100 foot radius of her remained still and silent.

The only indication she had that she were under the watchful eye of someone else, was from a handful of guards also assigned to her cell-block. Initially she believed it was just male leering over a pretty girl, but recently she'd seen the quintet whispering and staring at her when she passed. They were suddenly very close-mouthed and leery when she was present.

It was a warning sign she really should have taken a little more seriously than she had.

But, meh, they were only Spectrans, she could kick their asses easily enough if she needed to.

She smiled as she took her hands from the model and sat backward in her chair to admire her handiwork.

"What do you think, Colonel? I think I missed my calling."

He peered over the top of a ratted old Tom Clancy novel and squinted his eyes for better focus. "A Swan? How very original of you."

She dipped her shoulder to look over it at him. "Swans are very dangerous, Sir."

He smirked and went back to his reading. "So I hear."

She pulled a small wire from her pocket and gently clamped the ends of it with her lips as she reached for a very small transistor unit from the top of the table. She spoke distractedly as she concentrated on fitting the wires to it. "How are you feeling?"

He grunted. "A little antsy right now, Princess. Wondering when you were going to actually get me out of here."

"In time," she smiled. "Not too long now and you'll be kicking the boys asses back in to line."

"My men not behaving?"

She chuckled and stood slowly, cradling the swan in her hands. "About as much as when you were leading them."

He chortled and flipped the page. "Who's in charge now?"

She set the swan into the corner beside a gas stove and smiled as she changed the position a couple of times for better aesthetic appeal. "Your two drunken lieutenants."

His eyes shot up over the book, but his position didn't change. Had he been wearing glasses, he'd have been staring over the rims at her. "Drunken? As in never sober?"

She stood back and admired the model. "I only ever seem them on rec. leave, Sir, so I don't really know."

"Well that'll change on my return."

She giggled and wandered lazily over to the cell, where she leaned a shoulder on the bars to attempt to read over his shoulder. "Only a day or so now, Sir. I promise."

"I'll be ready."

"I know." She covered her mouth to yawn and glanced at the doorway. "I just want to get some more information on the second base, and we'll be gone."

"You know," he muttered as he closed the book and leaned his forearm on the back of his chair to look her over. "You should probably rest up a bit before you pull your stunt. I notice you haven't slept since you got here."

She shrugged. "I don't really need to, Sir. These implants make us able to remain awake for days at a time."

"Seven," he corrected as his eyes flicked to the calendar on the wall. "Seven and then your implant will shut your system down. You're pushing that limit already."

She winked. "We figured out, long ago, how to override that feature."

"Dangerous, Princess."

She shrugged. "So's this," she muttered as she swept her hand in the air to indicate their present circumstance.

"You know, there is a reason we set a seven-day limit on it."

She waved her hand dismissively and droned as if reciting a long worn out lecture. "I know, I know. All human beings need sleep. The brain requires shutdown in order to survive. Death occurs after approximately 8-10 days without any discernable sleep. Anderson has repeated that warning over and over again."

"Maybe you should listen to him for a change."

"I listen to my Commander, Sir, and he is the one who showed us the override."

He smirked. "I hope that was on a mission basis, Swan and not …"

His words were cut off by the noisy arrival of her five co-workers.

"What the…?" He questioned as they immediately stalked the young woman and pulled her harshly form the bars.

"Time for your induction into Spectran forces, bitch," one snarled as he threw her back up against the wall.

She blinked and gasped. "What? Is this a hazing or something?"

He held her in place with his forearm against her throat and flicked his other wrist at the door. "Keep an eye out, will ya?" His attention remained on Princess' confused and frightened face. "Let's call this a "something" shall we?"

She frowned and gagged at the pressure on her throat. She brought both hands up to attempt to pry him away from her. "Get the Hell off me, you asshole," she spat as she struggled for freedom. "When Zoltar finds out…"

The goon laughed and forced his forearm harder into her throat. "When Zoltar finds out what, little woman? That you're a spy for the Federation. That you're the Swan?"

Her eyes widened in time with Cronus' "fuck."

She tried shaking her head. "What are you talking about. I am not the Swan."

"We're not fools," one of the other goons behind her attacker snarled. "We've watched you, your interaction with the prisoner. You have been digging for information since you arrived."

Her lip curled. "I'm a conscientious employee. I want to know where to run next time G-Force arrive."

"Bullshit!" her attacker boomed as he took his arm off her and backhanded her across the face. "You are a liar. I know you're the swan. I can smell it on you."

She hit the floor hard, landing on her hands and knees with a sickening thud that forced a wince out of Cronus. She remained in a crouch and shifted her jaw to stretch out the sting of the hit. "Ow."

A third man joined the other two and took advantage of the victim's current position. He swung his leg to kick her in the abdomen. The action drew a painful yelp and expulsion of air from Princess throat, and a long begging moan from Cronus.

"Oh come on, leave her alone. She's not the Swan, I can guarantee you that much."

He turned on the prisoner. "You keep your mouth shut, or you're next, Colonel."

"Take me on, beat me all you want. But leave the woman. Shit, she's a woman."

A dark look crossed over the original attacker's face. "Yes," he purred dangerously. "A woman." He took a fistful of her hair and hauled her to her feet. "And it's been so long since …"

The glare of the woman in question as she was pulled to her feet halted whatever he had left to say. Her usual glistening green eyes had taken on a glassed and hard look. Her hands were clamped tightly to his as if to take the pressure off the pull of her hair, but her face read no emotion, no pain. Even the forming bruise on her mouth and cheek failed to highlight any soreness.

He was barely aware of the extra weight on his grasp as she shifted in order to look down her nose at him.

"And the drought goes on, asshole, because you still aren't going to get any." The end of her sentence was punctuated by a hard kick of her feet against his chest.

He immediately relinquished hold on her hair and fell backward into another goon.

As her feet touched feather-soft onto the concrete floor, her body fell into a low crouch. Her hand swept along the floor in search of a weapon. Her finger tips found a short piece of rope and she tilted her head just slightly to plot her attack.

It helped that the five men immediately banded together to give her a smaller zone of attack.

She smiled and leapt high from her crouch, cartwheeling with her hands taut on the rope, feet first into one of the attacker's faces. She used the foothold to launch herself backward over the head of another goon, catching his throat with the rope.

Clumsier than her yo-yo string, and with a larger area to grasp a hold, the rope slid and burned at her hand. She kept a firm hold, however, and twisted it across the man's throat. She yanked it back hard and grunted as she felt the neck snap against the rope.

There was barely a second in between her dropping the first victim and choosing another. Her teeth gritted as she pivoted on one foot and raised the other into an unsuspecting face.

"She is the Swan!" another yelled to his friend as he watched the second man go down in front of him. "Send out an alarm to the troops!"

There was a loud click of a firearm behind her that caused her to skid mid-attack and stop just shy of a man on the ground.

The one with the gun smirked and purred low as he spoke. "And let our ruler have all the fun with this little girl?" He made an exaggerated gesture of the weapon being pointed at Cronus. "I say we have our time with her than hand her to Zoltar for a large reward."

"I don't think so," Princess responded, keeping her eyes on the weapon and on a new target to her left. "I will have the rest of my team in here in less time it would take for you to blink." She stooped to pick up a weapon and pointed it at her third attacker. "Don't you think for a second I am the only one in here." She cocked the weapon in preparation of firing. "If you don't drop your gun I'll shoot him."

"And your Colonel will be dead before you could aim the gun at me."

She smiled. "And face the wrath of your leader for killing his prize? I don't think so." In calling his bluff, she squeezed the trigger and dropped a third goon. "Three down, two to go."

"I don't think so," a voice hissed from behind her as the very first man to attack took her by the hair to throw her face first against the wall. He twisted her arm behind her back to immobilize any further defense from her. "You can't call them if you can't use your communications device."

She grunted as her cheek scraped along the rough cinderblock wall. "Get off me, asshole."

He chuckled into her ear and snarled at his partner as he tugged her shirt from the waistband of her pants and threaded his hand up under to fondle her breasts. "If she makes one wrong move, kill him."

His partner snorted. "And the Sire will kill me."

He grunted and pressed himself into her back. "She's here for him. Obviously they know where we are. If he's dead they'll leave us the Hell alone."

He nodded. "Good point."

Princess groaned in pain as she felt her cheek scratch heavily along the wall. "Kill me, then. Give me to Zoltar. Just leave Cronus alone."

Cronus had to interject to that order. "Fuck that, Swan. Kick their asses and get the message to the team. Don't worry about me."

"I … can't do … that." She struggled to talk as the man behind her made moved to assault her in ways she hoped would never happen. "I'm here for your rescue, not mine." She let out a cry as her arm was twisted harder behind her. "I can't fail."

Cronus implored the men to leave her alone. "Come on, guys. She's just a woman. Leave her alone. If you use her as bait, you'll get the whole lot of them."

"Not until I take what I want from her first," he grunted as he fumbled with his belt. "A woman deserves no break. She has only one role in life, and that's to make a man's life pleasurable." He licked at her ear, thrilled at the tiny squeal of displeasure she gave. "I'll force it from you, bitch."

She choked out a whimper, horrified she had fallen so easily. "Please, don't do this."

"I take what I want, bitch!"

A shot rang out from beside them both. She let out a horrified cry as she heard the thud of a lifeless body on the floor. There was a brief shuffle of feet and the tension on her body was released as her attacker was pulled off her.

There was another shot and a gentler thud as her attacker fell to his knees, yelling in agony.

Princess turned, half expecting to be pulled into the arms of her lover.

_He'd come for her._

_He'd found her._

She turned and pressed her back into the wall, ready to fall into his arms.

As expected she was drawn into a set of arms … But not those of her lover.

"Are you okay?" a soft, but desperately pissed off voice asked her.

She peered up through sodden eyes into the mask of her enemy. She gasped and struggled to get free. "Stay away from me!" As she pulled away, she fell into a crouch, ready to attack. "I will kill you, I promise!"

He appeared to raise a brow, and raised a hand to her to assure her he meant no harm. "I am not going to hurt you."

She panted and wiped clumsily at her eyes, ready to call for her team if he made one wrong move.

He glared down at the groaning man on the floor, who held his hands at his bloody crotch.

"This is not acceptable behaviour, soldier," he ordered calmly at the man. "I don't condone it for a prisoner, and I definitely don't condone it for employees."

"But Sire …"

Zoltar raised his hand and flared his eyes to order the man quiet. "There are no excuses for that kind of filthy behaviour." He pointed a gloved finger at Cronus. "I would expect that behaviour from his kind, but not from my own men."

Princess gingerly pulled herself from her crouch and approached, wary of the fact that this goon could spill her identity at any moment. She prepared herself to both attack and defend.

Zoltar waited for a response from the man, whose entire attention was taken by sobbing and screaming in agony and realization he had lost the one defining feature of his masculinity.

"What is your excuse, soldier?!"

His eyes darted to princess, and he raised a bloody finger to point at her. "She's … she's…"

Princess immediately leapt into action. She pounced on the wounded man, driving her knees into his chest. With a bellow of a predator announcing its catch, she drove her elbow into the side of his head to break his neck.

He instantly stilled, his mouth and eyes frozen in a glare full of accusation at her.

Both Cronus and Zoltar winced at her action.

"Damn," the Colonel whispered in awe. "Where've you been hiding this one?"

Zoltar expelled a short, impressed breath and shook his head. "I don't know, but are there more of her?"

Princess finally shuffled off the man and skittered her ass along the floor to sit against the wall. Her breath was panicked and haggard. "G-Force would treat me better than this."

Zoltar ignored the comment and looked around at the array of bodies on the floor. He raised his brows underneath his mask and shook his head. "Did you? How?"

She ran her hand shakily through her hair. "I … I … uh … I grew up with four brothers. I learned to defend myself very quickly."

He nodded. "I can see they trained you well."

She slid herself up the wall and cast a glance to Cronus. He offered her a nod to say he was okay, so she stepped unsurely toward the cage. "They had big friends."

Zoltar clicked his fingers at a small handful of men that had gathered at the doorway. "Clean this mess up, for our guest." He laid a hand on her shoulder and gave a short squeeze for comfort. "I will assure you this will never happen again. I hope this doesn't turn you off working for Spectra."

Her eyes widened. This was not what she expected from the ruthless Zoltar. She answered with a shake of her head. "Um. No, Sire."

"Now," he muttered as he raised his eyes to Cronus. "While this place is cleaned up, I think the prisoner should be allowed to do the same." He pulled a key from the neck of his cap and unlocked the cell. "After my soldier's display of skill, I assume you will not try anything stupid on the way to the showers, Cronus."

The Pilot shook his head and raised his hands in a defensive manner. "Oh Hell no."

"Not that you'd ever strike a woman, anyway, would you?"

He swished a hip in a joking manner. "And break a nail?"

Princess groaned and poked him in the rib to tell him to walk. "Come on, Princess," she muttered, smirking at what she would definitely call a deliberate pun. "Let's get you all pretty for dinner."


	10. Chapter 10

"I wonder how Princess is doing," Jason grunted in an attempt to put Mark off his return swing of the ping-pong paddle.

Mark grunted and smirked as he returned the small white ball to Jason in a way he was unable to react. "She's probably enjoying mingling with the famous celebrities and politicians."

Jason rolled his eyes and prepared to face off with his Commander again. "I don't know why she gets so giggly over celebrities, considering she is far more famous than half of them."

"Because she's modest enough to believe she isn't."

Tiny chuckled from across the room as he jammed a burger into his mouth. "I bet they've got a great spread on. The girl will probably have put on a few pounds."

Jason sneered at their team pilot, disgusted at having to decipher words over grinding food. "Dude, that's sick. Finish your mouthful before talking."

He flipped the bird at Jason in response, obliging to the "not talking with a mouthful" request.

"Smartass." He looked at Mark and set the paddle on the table. "I'm done, Mark. A five game losing streak is enough for me for the night."

Mark shrugged and tossed the ball and paddle on the table beside Jason's. "Reigning champion again." He raised his hands victoriously over his head and hissed out a breath to mimic the cheer of a crowd. "One day they'll put me on a wheaties box."

"More like a milk carton, Skipper."

He rolled his eyes. "Real funny, man."

The two young men flopped simultaneously on the couch and immediately fought over the remote for the brand new 52" plasma screen TV that Anderson had requisitioned for the recreation room. Jason won and began scanning the sports networks for the hockey game.

"Leafs and Senators, Mark. What's your wager?"

"Leafs by two," he muttered over chewing on a broken fingernail. "Twenty bucks."

As the newest and most popular boy band began to sing the Canadian National Anthem to mark the beginning of the game, Cronus' most devious duo of pilots, and their feminine technician strolled in to the room.

Mark raised his eyes to Melissa, and quickly flicked them away toward the TV.

Jason noticed the look and the fast turn away, but said nothing. He leaned back heavier into the couch and prepared to take in all that was about to be said.

Anson checked Mark out as he passed, purposefully taking the only other available seat in front of the television. He pointed to a space beside Mark.

"Melissa, take a seat. The boys have the hockey on."

For the first time since Jason had known her, Melissa acted kind of shy toward Mark. She stammered and giggled as she shook her head.

"Oh, no. That's okay."

Alex raised a brow and folded his arms over his chest. "C'mon Melissa. The boy don't bite … " he paused, "…or does he?"

The question was obviously directed to Melissa, who reddened quickly and turned away. Mark's lip curled and he slouched angrily in the seat.

Jason's brow raised as his gaze caught Mark's pursed lips.

What the heck was going on here? The two of them were acting pretty strange based on previous encounters … Normally she'd be jumping on his knee and wrangling him for the remote.

Still, he stayed quiet.

Anson scratched at an itch on his thigh and grinned at the G-Force Commander. "So, Mark. How'd you fare the morning after the night before?"

His eyes flicked across to him. "Something tells me you have a fair idea." His eyes swept angrily to Melissa, who was unusually quiet, then refocused on the television."

"I'm telling you, Mark. You really should monitor your intake a little better. You never know what you might end up doing under the influence …"

Jason's eyes instantly widened. The inference there was unmistakable.

He slowly turned his head to his Commander. "What are they talking about?"

Mark kept his eyes on the game. "Nothing," he answered through his teeth, his irritation obvious.

Anson chuckled. "Yeah, Jason, nothing. We're just riding the boy … just like …"

"That's enough!" Mark spat finally as he smacked his palms on his legs and quickly rose to a stand. "Shove your innuendo up your ass. You have no clue about what happened after I left the bar, so stop with your shit."

Jason was more than mildly intrigued. He leaned forward to finish off the bottle of beer he'd opened before his last game of ping-pong. "Sounds like you're guilty of something, Skipper."

Mark paused in his stalk to the door and turned back to the group. "Whatever you're all accusing me off can't really have been all that spectacular considering I can't remember a damn thing about it."

"Ooh!" Alex whooped as he slapped Anson on the arm. "Burn!"

The duo burst into laughter as Mark stormed out of the room. Jason, who had pretty much completely worked out the story, bolted after him.

If Mark didn't deny this accusation, he was going to beat the living shit out of him.

Mark heard the footsteps behind him and turned, prepared for a punch-now, ask later, whooping from the Condor.

Jason, surprising even himself, held out long enough to ask the burning question.

"Did you screw her?"

Mark blinked once, considered the repercussions, then shook his head. "No."

Jason cracked his neck angrily and pumped his fists. "Are you sure about that?"

He let out a huff and leaned his back against the wall. "I don't know."

"How can you not know, man?"

"Because I was fried off my brain. Drunk. And, according to my implant report, flying off enough ecstasy to kill a normal man."

Jason's brows shot in to his hairline. "Which you didn't take, I suppose."

Mark coughed. "I don't do drugs, man."

"So you have no idea if you screwed the girl or not?"

Mark rubbed at his brow. "I have no idea. I know I was pissed off early in the night because the Chief sent Princess on this damn summit, and didn't let us know what was going on. I was also pissed off because I thought she was actually on a mission and was, therefore, conspiring with the Chief to lie to me. Add that to the alcohol and the drugs …" he sighed in defeat, "and I … I have no idea."

"Well, the burning question, man. Did you wake up with that woman beside you?"

Mark groaned and nodded. "Unfortunately, yes."

"Ahh, shit."

Any urge to deck Mark for cheating on Princess was superseded by his concern for the apparent conspiracy against him. Jason cast his eyes to the door.

"Are you sure you don't remember?"

"Not a damn thing beyond … kissing her." He looked as if he were about to vomit. "Princess is going to kill me."

Jason nodded, "yeah. Probably. You are literally going to be put six feet under when she finds out."

"She doesn't have to."

He pointed at the doorway. "With that lot of big mouths? I don't fancy your chances, man."

"Denial, Jase."

Jason rolled his eyes. "Oh yeah. Great foundation for a relationship. Start with lies and deceit."

"Well I don't know," he huffed in response. "Either way I'm pretty much screwed."

"In more ways than one," Jason quipped.

Mark's eyes narrowed. "Screw you."

Jason leaned back on the wall beside him. "Look Mark. Tell you what. I'll be your alibi if it ever comes up."

Mark rolled his head on the wall to look at his second. "What?"

"Princess means a damn lot to all of us, and the last thing any of us want to for her to get upset. If these assholes try to start any shit, I'll stand in your corner."

He drooped his shoulders. "Hopefully they won't."

"Yeah, here's hoping, Mark."

Mark pulled himself from the wall and slowly padded toward the gym for a frustration-relieving work out. "Let's just play it out for now. Hopefully I can remember something as the days go."

"Wish you luck, Man."

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Princess was still shuddering with uncertainty as she led Cronus to the shower block. She was confused about Zoltar coming to her rescue in the cell. In all of her previous encounter with him he seemed very remorseless, vicious and uncaring about anyone … or thing … that wasn't part of his conquering Earth.

Worse still, now she owed him one.

She owed him big.

Not a good thing when you were mortal enemies.

She chewed on her cheek in thought as she escorted her potential father-in-law through the maze that was the Spectran base.

He watched her out of the very corner of his eye as they strode side by side. He could see a conflict in her face.

Damn women. Damn them and their conscience.

"You owe him nothing, Princess," he said finally. "Take those thoughts out of your mind."

Her eyes slid to him and blinked very slowly as they moved back to look ahead of her. "If it wasn't for his intervention, Sir, I'd be exposed, raped and likely executed."

"And if he knew who you really were, he'd never have stepped in to help."

She sighed heavily. "I'm not so sure about that. I've been captured quite a few times, and he's never let them hurt me beyond a slap or two."

"I know," he responded distractedly, having lived in captivity for so long with the man in question. "I know."

She lowered her head and gently swept the blonde locks of her wig over her ear. "Will you be ready to move out within the next 24 hours?"

"You're abandoning your plan to gather more intel?"

She nodded. "That was too close, Sir. I don't know how many guys in this place have the same thought in their mind." Her head raised, and her eyes remained focused straight ahead of her. "Or how many people those boys shared their concern with."

"I can appreciate that."

She hooked her hand around the back of her neck to lean her chin on her wrist as she considered the most intricate parts of her final plan. Her other hand moved to her hip and her fingers drummed lightly on her belt. "I do have a final charge to set in place that should take out their Phoenix replica. That should be set when I am relived from cell-duty."

"But you're not supposed to come back for 12 hours."

She swept her eyes to him to offer him a look of tired frustration. "Then I'll get my sleep before we move out."

"Good."

"And you get yours, Sir. You'll need to be fully charged for us to do this."

They silenced as they passed a small trio of relaxing Spectran Goons, who immediately ended their conversation to eyeball the two-some walking to the showers.

Princess let her eyes glance at each snarling soldier as she walked by. She noticed, with a deep shudder, that their glares were more on her than Cronus.

Perhaps the news had spread faster than she had originally believed.

Cronus noticed the glares and grunted as he slapped her on the ass. "Take a photo, men. Next time you see her, she'll have had her fill of a Rigan man."

One of the men sneered in response. "Rumour has it she prefers Rigans, Colonel, so you're in for a good time."

Princess spun on her heel and set both hands on her hips. "What the Hell is that supposed to mean?"

One of the soldiers slowly dragged a foot along the floor. He looked as though he were too frightened to take a step toward her. He pretty much directed his response to his two comrades. "Isn't the Eagle supposed to be Rigan?"

One of his men nodded. "Yeah, well daddy-dearest is Rigan, I guess that makes him one too."

Princess tried her best not to look too stunned. "Which has what, exactly, to do with me and my taste in men?"

All three of them regarded her through their brows. "You tell us," one breathed in challenge.

Princess forced a laugh. "You think I am the Swan? A pink min-skirt wearing, yo-yo wielding, Eagle fan-girl?" she waved them off and turned back toward the showers. She grabbed Cronus by the upper arm to tell him to move. "You're all smoking too many drugs if you think that."

"Yeah, well just know we're watching you, woman."

She turned enough to be able to look back over her shoulder at them. She winked, kissed her fingertips, and then slapped her own ass. The move was more effective than sign language in telling them to kiss her ass. "Watch that, assholes."

Once out of earshot, she slumped her body and groaned. "Looks like there might be a change in plans, Sir."

He nodded firmly enough to assert his agreement. "When do we move?"

She walked to a locker beside the showers and hauled out a heavy back-pack. "Do you really need to shower, Colonel?"

A long, lazy and satisfied grin spread across his face. "We're just going to get dirty anyway, aren't we?"

Her eyes blinked coyly as she unzipped the bag. "Oh-h-h, yeah," she purred as she pulled a familiar red, folded package out of the back and passed it across to Cronus. "You might want to put this on. It's a little cold outside."

He smiled in recognition as he unfolded the package to reveal the red leather of his Ranger's flight suit. "Hope the damn thing still fits."

She smirked and dropped to a knee on the concrete floor to check a handful of small firearms that were also in the pack. "Just tighten the belt, Sir, if that's the case. I'd certainly hate for you to lose your pants as we flee."

He zippered up the jacket and stretched his arms to stretch out the firm leather. "Forgot how restricting this thing was."

She smiled and pointed to his helmet. The visor, with its familiar blue shield, shimmered in the fluorescent lighting. "Fitted with a helmet-cam. Anderson will see everything you do."

"Which will be active when?" He asked as he waved his hands in front of it for reasons not even he could give.

She slowly drew herself to a stand and passed two guns to him. "Centre Neptune will be on full alert, and both of our cameras and microphones active as soon as I start the transmutation sequence."

"Will the team be dispatched at that point?"

She shook her head and helped him fit the helmet. "They won't make it here in time."

"But they'll be watching?"

"Probably." She took a step back and took a moment to appraise the Colonel in his Ranger uniform. "Damn, it's good to see you again, Sir."

He smiled with the excitement of a young boy at the Christmas tree. "You ready, Swan, for the show?"

She winked. "I'm just ready to go home and crawl into bed."

"With a certain young man beside you, no doubt."

"No. I wouldn't get any sleep," she laughed as she took another step backward and circled her wrist in front of her face.

"Transmute!"


	11. Chapter 11

It had only been about ten minutes since Mark began his workout in the gym, yet he was already beading with sweat and panting like he'd run a marathon. In his frustration and self-loathe, he'd already torn a 100lb punching bag from the ceiling with a single kick. Right now, he was on to his second, which was teetering dangerously to one side in definite defeat.

He grunted with exertion as he spun his body to kick high at the very top of the bag. It contracted and gave a low "whoomp" with the hit. As it popped back into its original shape, Mark followed through with a double-fisted punch at it's middle.

The yell that escaped his throat as his fists connected with the vinyl outer covering immediately drew a low and impressed sigh from the young woman at the door.

"I don't think I've ever seen you fight," she purred as she stepped into the gymnasium.

Mark put both hands on the bag to stop it swinging, but didn't look in her direction. "This area is restricted, Melissa."

His aggressive tone of voice didn't stop her from padding in heeled shoes onto the thin blue mat beside him. "You're mad at me, aren't you?"

He had to cough at the question. "Gee, what gave you that impression?"

She folded her arms defiantly against her chest. 'There's no need to be like that, Mark."

His head turned quickly to her. "And there was no need to gloat to your friends about what happened between us." The only thing stopping him from grabbing her by the throat was the hold he had on the bag in front of him.

She shrugged and rolled her eyes. "I didn't tell them anything."

"Oh no?" he demanded as he finally released his hold on the bag and took a step toward her. "And just where, exactly, did those two assholes get their information to pull that little stunt back in the rec. room?"

She didn't flinch as his hand shot up to point at the doorway. "It wasn't hard to work out, Mark" she spat in her own defense. "You dragged me out of the bar and into my car in front of the two of them … In front of the entire bar!"

He clenched the hand of the arm pointing at the door into a fist, and let it drop to his hip. "And I bet you didn't give them any other reason to pull this shit."

"That's my story and I'm sticking to it."

He spun on his heel and grunted as he stormed to the side bench to swipe a face-towel from the floor. "Whatever." He turned and wiped the towel down his face to rid it of sweat and noticed her shoes on their training mat. "Take those damn things off if you're going to parade around in here."

She smirked. "Anything else you want me to take off?"

He threw the towel into a laundry hamper and snarled at her. "Give it a rest, will you? When will you get it into your head that I am not, ever, going to leave her. Not for you, not for anyone!"

Her brow raised slightly, "But you'll screw me."

His eyes flared. "That was a mistake, Melissa! That was a drunken, drugged out …." He paused and lowered his head. "And speaking of drugged. Do you happen to have any idea how I ended up with a quadruple dosing of ecstasy drug in my system?"

She gasped as if being wrongly accused of the most heinous of acts. "What? What are you accusing me of?"

"I would have thought the question was clear enough, but in case I stuttered. How did I end up being high on ecstasy?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Maybe you took it yourself, Commander. Maybe you are just looking for an excuse for your own failed control over that thing between your legs."

"I have proof of it, Melissa."

She shook her hand at him as if to dismiss the accusation completely. "Convenient. Find yourself a scapegoat excuse for when Princess finds out." She turned on her heel and spoke over her shoulder at him, not noticing that the Condor had silently slipped in through the door. "I wouldn't be so concerned with that, anyway. Chances are you won't even see her again…" She abruptly stopped what she was saying to gasp.

Jason, in his own usual manner, urged her to continue – by standing tall-yet hunched, in a manner so typically him. "What was that?"

Her eyes flashed guilt and fear, but she shrugged. "Nothing. I meant … uh, nothing."

Mark finally had her previous comment sink into his mind and slowly stalked her. "What did you say about Princess?"

"Nothing," she assured meekly.

"Is she in danger?"

She shrank just a little and backed away – right in to the chest of Jason. He clutched at her upper arms to hold her in place. "What information do you have, Melissa?"

Melissa squirmed only a little, wincing at the painful pinch of Jason's grip. "Nothing. It's just rumours."

Mark snarled into her face. "What rumours? Is she in trouble?"

"I don't know, Anson said something a few days ago … but…"

That was enough for the two G-Force members. At the mention of the other pilot's name, both men immediately released Melissa and bolted toward the rec room, where the man in question was eating Jason's secret stash of Dorito's and drinking a can of Coke.

Jason roughly pulled him out of the chair. "Spill it, Anson. Tell us everything, or you lose your manhood."

He seemed incredibly confused by the sudden attack and gasped with wide eyes. "What are you talking about, man?"

Mark, who seemed oblivious to the fact Jason had hold of him by the shoulders, grabbed a handful of his shirt and snarled dangerously at him. "Where is Princess?"

"Princess?" he coughed out in shock. "What about her, she's on that fucking summit, isn't she?"

To his side, Alex gingerly approached in a way to come to his friend's defense, but was halted by a large man in a yellow shirt. "I wouldn't even try it," Tiny growled as he looked down at him.

Mark ignored Tiny and Alex, and asked his question again. "You know she isn't on any summit. You told Melissa she was somewhere else. Where is she?"

He shrugged as best he could, given that a Condor had his shoulders and the Eagle was practically nose-to-nose with him. "I don't know, man. I only overheard a conversation in the hangar where I was smoking some weed."

"What did you hear? Tell me every single bit of information you know."

Jason's snort of agreement punctuated the Eagle's request.

Anson tried to look everywhere but at the two men. "She's on some sort of rescue mission. Super confidential out in the desert."

Jason shook him trying to get more information, faster. "And?"

"Stop shaking me man. I don't know where she is. All I heard them say was that she probably wouldn't make it out alive, but they had to send her in." he inhaled sharply. "Because she is the most disposable on the team."

Mark's eyes flared wide, and his top lip ticked with irritation. "Anderson said that?"

Anson shook his head. "No that pompous asshole from the Royal family, Anderson wouldn't say shit like that. Carrington said that only after she failed the mission would he send in G-Force to obliterate the place." He sniffed. "He and Anderson argued about it.

Jason spared a look at his Commander, whose expression was horrifically dark. "Did they say where she was going?"

Anson shook his head, really, really trying not to look at Mark. "Just that she had to infiltrate the base, get the prisoner and leave."

"Who is the prisoner?"

"I don't know, man. But he's got to be important because Princess didn't hesitate to take the assignment."

Mark shifted his eyes up to Tiny and then to Jason. "We need to find out everything we can about this mission and go rescue her."

"Damn straight," Tiny snarled as he cracked his knuckles.

"Jason, are you still sleeping with the TA's daughter?"

"Consider the relationship back on, Skipper."

"Good, pump her for information." He looked and pointed at the two pilots. "And you two. You have Rigan connections, use them. I want to get to her before Spectra does."

As if by divine command, as the order left his lips, the lights in the rec room dimmed to a heavy yellow colour.

The PA, and 7-Zark-7, announced that the command was made a little too late.

** "All tactical personnel and mission control crews are to report to their stations immediately. This is a code orange, Bird in Combat. Again, this is a code orange.

"All members of G-Force and the Rigan Rangers Squadrons are on standby, remain on the premise until further instruction."

"Code orange, Bird in Combat. Code Orange…." **

Mark looked to his second and fifth, and then to Keyop as the youngster slid on socked feet into the room.

"Where's Princess?" Keyop beeped in panic, realizing that four out of the five were obviously not the ones in battle.

Mark curled a lip and began a fast run to the doorway. "Stand by my ass," he growled. "Let's go and get what we need from Anderson, and go find her."

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The sudden comforting feeling of being protected within the G-Force birdstyle gave Princess the mental upper-hand she sorely needed in order to complete this mission and get the two of them out alive. Unusual for her, she checked the placement of her helmet and the fit of her uniform as if to confirm she was actually wearing it.

The action caused Cronus to snort.

"Feel better, girl?"

She grinned coyly and slouched a hip to the side, setting her hand on the very curve of her hip. "Oh. You have no idea. I am officially armed and dangerous."

"And cocky it seems."

She swished her hips and strode to the doorway to check for the enemy. As she approached she peered cheekily over her shoulder. "As I said earlier, Mark is rubbing off on me."

He opened his mouth and threw his head back to give a single, hearty laugh. "Did you forget Neptune's got its ears on, Swan?"

She paused, spun to face him and embarrassedly covered her mouth with both hands. "Oh my, I forgot!" She smiled and waved innocently at Cronus' visor. "Hi Chief … I hope only the Chief. Cronus and I are on our way out. If there is any chance the boys can make it here within the next half hour, could you send them in?"

There was no response from the Chief of Security for the Federation, and she truly didn't expect any. While her helmet transmitted all pertinent visual and audio information between G-Force, and now Cronus, it did not receive transmissions beyond basic text/image that flashed in her visor.

Cronus answered for him. "Didn't you say they couldn't make it in time?"

She nodded quickly and jogged back to the doorway, tsking as she peered around the corner for the trio she'd encountered earlier. "No chance. Not unless the techs have found a way for them to do warp speed in American air space."

"What would be their ETA?"

She turned back and flicked her hand to ask him to follow. "At least an hour."

"Sucks to be us, right?"

"No. I hope to be out of here well before the end of that time frame."

She stood and waited for Cronus to join her. She pressed her finger to her lips and innocently dropped her head to ask the question burning in her head. "Do we begin this with a bang? Or do we sneak through like a couple of mice?"

He looked at her for a few seconds, and then drew one of his four holstered weapons. "If we go out, Princess. We go out with a bang." He held out his hand to her to shake his alliance with her. "No prisoners."

She smiled and shook his hand. "Mark would want that for the both of us, Sir."

She raised her communicator to her mouth and spoke a firm order to the Swan in the cell.

"Cell block detonate."


	12. Chapter 12

It was Keyop who actually made it to Chief Anderson's office first. He still ran with only his socks on, but held his shoes off his fingers. Less than a heartbeat away from him where his other three team mates, Mark in the lead.

They burst through Anderson's office door full of grunts and complaints about what the Hell he was thinking sending in Princess alone. Anderson silenced them all with a single raise of his hand. He didn't speak, nor did he even look at them.

His focus was on two screens in front of him.

Mark narrowed his eyes as he looked at the first, which displayed an undistorted and clear image that was watching the Swan and her coy playfulness closely.

Odd.

Who was she fighting beside?

Zark had ordered the Rangers be on standby, was she with one of their pilots?

He heard her ask the stranger if they were going to go start with a bang, and jolted when he heard a familiar voice respond they both go out with a bang.

A white gloved hand came into view as she announced Mark would want it that way, and she shook his hand in a morbid kind of alliance.

"God," he breathed painfully. "How bad is it?"

"Don't worry about them," Anderson half-whispered. "She and Cronus will definitely give them a run for their money."

There were three gasps and one, confused: "Who?"

Mark quickly looked at the image he knew was Princess' and nearly collapsed when he saw the familiar thin moustache of the Pilot he most admired.

"Father?"

Anderson's eyes flicked to his Commander and he gave a short nod. "Yes, Mark. Her mission was to rescue Cronus from Spectra."

He could barely stand, but he managed to say, inside a squeak. "We have to go to them."

Anderson shook his head. "There's no time, Commander. They're on their own for now."

"Give us a chance," Jason demanded quietly, but with heavy anger. "You can't ask Mark to watch his father die again."

"Princess won't let that happen, Jason." Anderson answered shortly. "She's had a week to prepare this rescue. She's been inside for all that time and knows each area intimately enough to get him out safe." He let out a breath. "She has orders, Cronus will walk out of there."

"And her?" Tiny questioned.

Anderson didn't answer. Instead, he turned up the volume on Princess and Cronus' audio feed.

Their camera's showed a shudder as a room to the rear of them, and probably a good distance away, exploded. They immediately started to jog together through a corridor.

Mark repeated the question in his own manner to Anderson. "What are the orders, Chief? Has she been ordered to give her life for his?"

Anderson's fingers drummed on the table in front of him. He couldn't bring himself to look at either of the men. "They aren't my orders, Commander."

"What are the orders?" Jason finally bellowed, ready to tear a strip off Anderson.

Anderson closed his eyes and tilted his head as if mortified by the assignment. "He lives, no matter what."

"That's bullshit!"

"She'll get them both out of there, Jason."

He pounded the butts of his fists on the table. "I'm not just going to sit here and watch her get killed, Chief. You're sending us to get her."

Anderson finally spun to face the G-Force second. "You don't have time, Jason. She is in battle now, not in 90 minutes, which is how long it will take for you to get flight clearance and get out there." He slowly looked at each G-Forcer. "We just have to pray she will fight with the brilliance all of us know she has."

"We have to do something," Mark whispered as he saw a fight begin with a small group of Spectran soldiers. "We can't just leave her alone like this."

"She has a plan, Commander," Anderson assured softly. "She has a plan."

"And all we can do is sit here and watch?"

Anderson nodded and swept his hand toward four seats behind him. "Just be patient and sit this one out. She'll come home … I promise you."

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Princess wasn't sure what was worse: That she was without her team for her escape; or that she was with Cronus, who would most certainly be scrutinizing her every move and judging her performance.

That was a lot of stress on her small set of shoulders.

It was hard enough to face the fact she might not get out alive, but to know that she'd go down being watched by Mr. Chauvenistic himself was downright mortifying.

Time to put on her best show and to look as relaxed about it as she possibly could.

It began with the meeting of four green goons in the first corridor. Cronus, of course, immediately tried to shield her as he raised one of his weapons to fire haphazardly into the group. She expelled a disgruntled grunt as she shoved past his extended arm to enjoy some ass whooping of her own.

Her grunt came out feminine, but with a strong demand for no argument. She appeared to leap off the floor to dive in between bullets and propel herself into a hand-spring flip to land feet-first into a goon who'd stepped away from the rest of his team. As he hit the ground she gave a quick twist of her ankles to break his neck. Immediately she unholstered her yo-yo and flicked the point of it into the throat of another. She retracted it as Cronus jogged to her side and looked over her shoulder.

"Nice," he purred low into her ear. "Nice and clean."

She gave an arrogant upward roll of her eyes and ticked her shoulder to speak almost disrespectfully to him. "I don't want to get my pretty dress dirty."

"Or break a nail, right?"

She stepped in front of him as they walked and turned to face him, walking backwards with a girlish hilt. "Gotto stay all feminine for the press conferences, now," she giggled as she blew him a kiss and let her shoulder tilt to pull her back to facing the direction she was walking.

"Anderson's got to stop putting you kids through that." Remembering Anderson was ears on, he added: "You're soldiers, not a damn circus act."

In difference to his response Princess suddenly launched into a cartwheel to land knee-first into another goon's chest. She hummed a circus theme as she used the goon's own weapon to fire a shot into his chest. She stood and admired the weapon a moment, and then aimed it over Cronus' shoulder.

"You were saying?" she purred as she squeezed the trigger to drop two goons behind him.

Cronus gasped a hiss as the bullets flew close enough to his head to tear holes in the famous helmet flair of the Rangers. "Jesus, Princess. I'm wearing Red, not green."

"Oops, that was close." She shrugged with an innocent grin and let the weapon fall off her fingers. "This is why I carry a yo-yo, and not a gun."

"No more guns for you, okay, Princess? You'll end up killing me instead of rescuing me."

"I thought it was the other way around," she retorted flatly as she pressed her back up against the wall to peer around a corner. "You're rescuing me."

He smirked as her palm flattened against his chest to stop him behind her. "Tom-ay-to, tom-ah-to," he answered as he tried to peer around her head.

She rewarded his closeness with a dark look as she slid her back down the wall to allow his easy access to scout around the corner. She took the lower view.

The view ahead of them made not only them, but five men back at Centre Neptune, gasp in horror.

There had to be at least forty men; all of them checking firearms and gathering for a full-scale assault.

The room was on one-side of a T-junction that led to the hangars. The other arm of the junction led to what could only be assumed was the main staging area for assembly and briefing. A three-storey high cylindrical room that housed only a few good cover points. It was a place for capture or execution … Basically, a no-exit point.

Of course, noone watching from the side of good besides Princess knew this logistical fact. It had been part of her base investigation over the week. She needed to find the best exit point.

The hangars were it.

But the hurdle faced now was the room directly across from the hangar.

"Looks like our path is chosen for us, Swan," Cronus said with hushed tones.

She signed with a sing-song hum and shook her head. "It's not that easy, Sir."

He looked down at the top of her helmet. The fact she appeared to be chewing on the fingertip of her glove, was not a good sign. "Care to brief me on why?"

She answered almost distractedly as she lowered her gaze to her hand to count the amount of small explosives in her hand. "That way is out."

He hummed and kept his eyes on her. "And to our right?"

"You really don't want to know."

"Ahh. Shit."

She chewed on her cheek in thought for a moment. "I do have that room set for explosion. I was going to use the distraction for when you take the Harrier out of here."

"A Harrier," he moaned as if ignoring anything preceding that comment. "That's the best you could do?"

"I don't have a catalogue for you to choose from, Sir. That will have to suffice."

He grunted. "And you?"

She pocketed just over half of the charges in her hand. "I'll provide ground support for your escape. Don't worry about me."

"The Hell I won't."

She actually raised her head to look at him. "Chivalry and all that," she droned in an unimpressed manner.

"No," he said quietly as he let his eyes rise up to the men. "We're a team. We watch each other's backs."

She rolled her eyes and slowly drew herself to a stand. "We have three choices, Sir. We can blow the room and end up in the room over there." She flicked her eyes to the right, a direction she had already stated was not a good option for them.

"Next choice?"

"We can aim for distraction by throwing a few of my flash charges down the right hallway and hope they'll ignore us standing here in the corridor."

He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Which is possible considering their ignorance…"

"But is it a risk we want to take?"

"Good point."

She took a breath. "Or we go in there Hell for Leather and fight our way out."

He actually smirked. "Tempting, Princess. Tempting."

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Mark couldn't believe his eyes – he didn't want to believe his eyes.

On the two monitors in from of him were his father, whom he thought was dead, and his girlfriend. Both were marching headlong into danger, and there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop them, to lead them, or to help them.

He wanted to yell at her for being so relaxed and indifferent to what she was walking in to. He wanted to yell and tell her to focus, to make sure she got out of there safe and without injury.

She wasn't allowed to flirt and play coy. Not with Cronus - or any man for that matter - but especially not with Cronus! She was to focus, stay on her path and not take even a nano-second to tease and giggle and take her attention from the fight.

This was so unlike her.

He let his eyes flick to each of the other men in the room, just to make sure they were all in absolute agreement with his own thoughts. Surely they could read his mind. Surely they all possessed the exact same thought.

Seeking confirmation, he grunted. "She needs to concentrate on the task."

Jason snorted and toyed with a toothpick in his mouth. "She seems to be doing alright, Skipper."

Anderson agreed. "She's more relaxed than normal; it'll serve her well in this fight."

Mark frowned. "Flirting with the old man is going to serve her better in exactly what way?"

Jason clicked out of the side of his mouth. "Who are you to play jealous boyfriend?"

"Shut-up, Jason."

Anderson coughed, "I hope you're not alluding to anything that I wouldn't condone, gentlemen," he said shortly, then flicked the backs of his fingers against the monitor. "Now, if you're done squabbling, can we get back to this?"

Mark lowered his voice an octave. "Are you sure we can't deploy and try to help out?"

"Mach 10 wouldn't get you there in time, and the Phoenix can't even pull mach 5, so no."

He groaned and slumped against the glass wall behind the monitors. "I don't want to watch any more."

It was when he heard Keyop breathe the one word that Princess would slap him for, that he pulled himself sharply from his non-vantage point behind Anderson.

"Fuck."

Jason's palms met with the table ledge as he cursed in much the same manner at the youngest G-Forcer. "Fuck, no." His hands shook as the images on the monitor showed an army of men larger than anything any of them have ever dealt with alone. "She'll never make it, Chief."

Mark looked at the monitor and almost yelled.

There had to be forty men …

He didn't know if he could watch.

But he couldn't take his eyes off the monitors.

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Decisions, decisions.

What to do, and how to play?

Princess gently chewed on her cheek as she considered a viable game plan for this escape. Cronus had been darkly excited about the possibility of an all-out strike against these men, but with the obvious outnumbering and the fact that Cronus hadn't seen any real action in near on three years, that was probably not a good idea.

But they really didn't have a much better option to play with.

Cronus huffed a little in impatience at her indecision. His breath fogged at her visor.

"Well?"

She rolled her eyes and gave a hard single swipe of her visor to un-fog it. "Looks like we go straight in to the fray, Sir."

He smirked. "There's fire in you after-all, Princess."

She shook her head. "No, there really isn't. However, we have little choice. There isn't going to be an explosive entrance of the boys, so we're really on our own."

He let a long and slow grin stretch across his jaw as he stroked at the weapon in his hand. "On three, then?"

She let out a displeased breath and nodded. Before he could count off, though, she widened her eyes and slapped his arm with the back of her hand.

"I have an idea."

"Oh?"

She removed a single flash charge from her pocket and a small amount of C-4 from the other side. As she fashioned a ring around the marble-sized charge, she breathed a couple of questions and instructions.

"How strong are you feeling?"

"Exhilarated and full of adrenaline, why?"

"How many g's can you handle?"

He raised a brow and began to look around them wondering just how much more time they could possibly waste in discussion. "14 in the centrifuge, why?"

"If I need you to, can you hang on to me really … really tight?"

"Yeah, and why?"

She gave him the newly minted "Princess Special" explosive and gave him a wink. "Just throw that to the boys when you think the time is right, and play along, okay?"

He frowned as she made a move to step in to the corridor, and roughly grabbed hold of her wing. "Do you want to tell me what on Earth you're planning, Swan?"

"Hmm. I'm not sure you really want to know."

"Yes. Yes I do."

"No time."

"We've wasted this much," he hissed, pulling her face to his. "What's another minute?"

She pulled herself away from him. "Just remember, Sir, that you have four set of eyes watching you manhandle me. Not one of the owners of those eyes will be very receptive to that behaviour, so hands off." She stepped in to the hallway and leaned her back up against the wall across from him. She smiled in a coy manner, slid one foot up to stand in a more alluring position and winked. "Just play along."

He snorted, but offered her a nod – it looked like she wanted to pull out a few stops for this final battle.

Her arm rose above her head in a truly seductive manner as her head rolled on the wall to look to the men down the hall. "Oh boys…" she called in a sing-song manner as she crooked her finger in invitation. "Down here."

One of the goons pointed at her. "It's G-Force!"

Another cocked his weapon. "Let's go get them!"

Princess giggled and looked back at Cronus, who had begun to smirk. "Whenever you're ready."

Surprisingly, not all of the men charged her at once, and those that did skidded to an unsure stop as Cronus stepped into the corridor and slipped an arm around Princess' waist. He tossed the charge up and down in his hand, twice, and then called out a challenging: "Here, catch", as he under-arm tossed the ball to the men.

Princess pulled Cronus' free arm around her and whispered for him to hang on as the goons began a comical routine of tossing the charge amongst each other in an attempt to get rid of it.

Then Cronus' world went into a spin.

Hang on tight? Oh Hell yeah, he did that and then some as Princess spun them both inside a tornado.

They both sensed the bright white flash of the initial charge, and then the heavy boom and orange flash of the detonating C-4 explosive.

Then there was relative silence.

Princess ended the spin as abruptly as she began it. She immediately pulled away from Cronus to survey the damage and to pick off any remaining goons who survived the explosion and consequent cyclonic forces. When satisfied they were safe for the next moment, she turned to check on her partner, and immediately began to giggle at him.

Cronus stumbled against the walls and finally tripped on his own feet to fall flat onto his backside. He attempted to draw himself into a crawl, but fell into an undignified heap on top of a destroyed table.

He pointed into the air, seemingly towards Princess, and grunted as he attempted to regain his balance.

"Don't you _ever_ do something like that to me again, Swan."

She pursed her lips and stopped to help him to his feet. Her lips were close to his ear when she spoke.

"A little dizzy, Sir?"

"A _little_ dizzy?" he repeated flatly in his own special manner. "Understatement." He finally got his focus on Princess and frowned. "How come you're doing so well?"

She shrugged and looked around at the damage to the corridor. There were no moving limbs or goons, so she estimated they had at least a few moments to get free and clear of the base. "Uh," she answered distractedly as she poked her head into the room that, only seconds earlier, had housed a large handful of armed goons. "I guess the implant protects our equilibrium or something." She kicked a gun out of the hand of a dead goon at her feet. "I'm not entirely sure. It could be conditioning, too."

He pulled himself from the wall and gingerly stepped after Princess. "Are we gone?"

She turned to give him a beaming smile of affirmative. "Yes we are…" As she turned back to the exit her smile fell and eyes widened in horror. There were almost a hundred goons approaching the blast area fast.

She roughly grabbed Cronus' hand to back down the corridor they had just escaped from. To their horror, that route had begun to fill with goons.

"Oh Good Lord," she muttered softly as she walked backward up against Cronus.

He snarled low in disappointment and frustration. "Now what do we do?"

"Remember that direction I said wasn't a good option?"

"Yeah?"

She walked them backwards. "It looks like that's our only choice now."


	13. Chapter 13

Mark's eyes widened horrifically as the feed came through to his console. He spooked every man on the Command deck as he swore and punched with fists into the monitor.

They shattered with a hiss and sparks.

"Dammit! Damn, fuck, shit, bloody fucking Hell!"

Keyop shrank in his chair. Mark didn't swear much and he knew when he did, it had to be bad.

Tiny coughed in discomfort, and Jason leapt over the console to check on what had upset his Commander so much.

"What the Hell, Mark?"

Mark rubbed at his fists, thankfully protected by thick leather, and growled. "It was a trap. The Chief sent her in, alone, on the word of that Rigan asshole, and he was a spy!"

Jason went perfectly still. With the exception of a vein over his temple throbbing heavily, one would have thought he was a statue.

"And Anderson made us sit back and wait, when we could have been trying to rescue her?"

Mark made another aggressive strike and the sparking and smoking monitor. "Damn it!" His eyes rose to Tiny. "Do whatever the Hell you can to get us there as quick as possible. If you have to pull a Star Trek and teleport us there, damn well do it."

Tiny grunted from his station. "I'm doing the best I can, Mark."

"Do better, please."

"If we go fiery, Mark, we can pull a couple of extra Machs for at least ten minutes, but we'll be shit outta luck when we get there."

Jason looked to Mark for approval.

The Eagle nodded.

He marched to the main lever to convert to firebird, and offered a serious look to each of his team mates. "We go fiery, team. We can do this without the Phoenix when we get there."

He received a series of grunts of approval, then looked up to the monitor where he was Princess' worried face as she looked to face off with Zoltar's men.

"We're coming, Sweetheart. Just hang on, please."

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Princess was never one to question herself when it came to her role within G-Force. She never doubted her ability, nor orders from those of higher rank. She was confident at all times with her ability and skills, never once backing down or giving in to Jason's jibes about she being a girl and how she should just go back to the Phoenix because the task was "too dangerous".

Today, however, her mindset screamed a litany at her for her complete ineptitude.

How could she have been so stupid?

How could she not have smelled the acrid odour of trap?

Why did she not warn Mark?

Why did she not tell even Jason to be on her watch?

Why had she forced Cronus into a position such as this?

She should have investigated all of this much more before rushing in. She should have listened to her intuition about Carrington, and not just put it down to he being just a pompous asshole.

She should have known.

She should have.

She was so much better than this.

She inhaled so heavily that her bottom lip half sucked into her mouth. Cronus caught the inhale out of the corner of his eye. He could read her mind right now; she was beginning to doubt herself.

"Don't leave me now, Princess," he said softly, in a reassuring manner very unlike him. "Focus, girl. Focus."

She tilted her head to him and blinked slowly as if to nod. "I'm trying, Sir."

"Don't think for a second the boys aren't doing everything in their power to get to us."

"I know."

"They won't let you down."

A smile played at her mouth and her stature suddenly seemed to rise with confidence. "And I won't let you down, Sir."

He grinned. "That's my girl. Now, plan?"

She winked and spread her arms. "Yeah, don't get killed." She lightly bent her legs into a high crouch and leapt off the ground.

Cronus watched her leap high and unhitch her yo-yo, and ran forward to engage in battle. "Great, you go high. I'll go low." He removed two guns from holsters at his thighs and held them both at arms length either side.

Princess landed on the second floor railing in a crouch that seemed more unbalanced than it was. She flicked her hand out of her wings to splay a handful of feathers into the small group of goons ahead of her. She back-flipped onto the balcony and dodged wailing bodies as she fired her yo-yo into another goon.

A bullet whizzed past her helmet, which dropped her to her knees. She deliberately let herself fall backward to kick out the knees of the shooter, and let the momentum roll her completely back onto her feet.

She raised her hand to catch the gun on the fly, and twisted her body around to fire into a group of goons that were quickly approaching.

She briefly let her gaze fall to Cronus…

Cronus was enjoying himself immensely. There was no flinch, blink, or cough as he let his guns to his dirty work.

He let out a warrior cry as he attempted to pull a Swan and leap high into the air to land feet-first into a goon. Without her training, and without her wings for lift, he was unable to jump higher than the goon's midsection. The hit was hard, however, and the goon fell backward, lifting the gun and firing into the air.

Cronus ended the upward barrage of bullets with a single shot to the goon's throat before he hit the ground shoulder-first and rolled onto his stomach to fire into the head of a goon who'd had Princess in his sights.

Still more goons filtered into the room.

He looked up and his face contorted as he watched a spray of bullets fire at the swan, ripping apart the left side of her wing as she tried to float back down to the ground beside him.

"Oh Hell, Princess!"

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Mark pulled down on the lever again to attempt to put the Phoenix into fire-mode. He cursed when the ship refused to obey his command.

Above his head, on the monitor, he could see Princess's uniform being sprayed with bullets, and hear Cronus moan out her name.

"Damn it. Tiny, what the heck is wrong with this thing."

"Ahh crap," he hissed through his teeth in response as he struggled to fight the warship for control as he pushed her to her limits. "The G-3 isn't onboard, Mark. We can't go fiery."

"No, way," he groaned. "What can we do?"

Keyop leapt up from his console and jumped from foot to foot as he struggled to get past the beeps and broops to suggest a quick fix-it. "Mark…The … cradle. I …. Fix…. it."

Jason grabbed Keyop by the shoulders and nearly shook him to try to get the boy to speak coherently. "Keyop, think hard about what you're saying, kid. We can't understand a word you're saying."

Keyop frowned, cleared his throat, and tried again. "The … cradle. G-3. I … I …can trick it."

Tiny, who seemed to be the only one in control enough to decipher the young man, finally translated. "Princess did it once or twice when we were missing the G-1. Keyop can trick the girl into thinking the G-3 is onboard."

Mark looked at Keyop, his eyes wide with question. "Keyop, can you?"

Keyop nodded.

"Then go. Be quick."

Keyop didn't need to be told twice. He pulled out of Jason's grasp and bolted toward the hangar for the G-3.

Jason rubbed at his brow and kicked at Princess' chair. "This is just wrong, Skipper."

"I know," he hissed as he watched Princess land hard on the ground beside Cronus and turn to fire a goon's gun up at another group of goons. "But she'll be okay, Jase. She knows we're coming to help."

"Yeah, but knowing and being able to hold them all off for long enough are two different beasts."

Mark's eyes flicked to his second. "You pessimistic bastard."

Jason smirked. "Pot, meet kettle."

They both looked back up at the monitor to watch the fight. Mark addressed the ship's pilot as he watched. "Tiny, ETA without Fiery?"

"Twenty minutes, Mark."

He huffed. "With fire?"

"Five, ten at the most."

He raised his communicator to his lips. "Keyop, how's it looking in there?"

"Dark," Keyop managed after several broops.

"Don't be a smartass."

"Almost … done … Mark."

He nodded, aware it couldn't be seen, and looked back up at the monitor. "Come on, Sweetheart. Just a little longer. Hold on. I'm not going to let you die."

Jason sighed. "Damn, she's putting up a fight though."

"Stunning, isn't she?"

"Yeah."

Mark sighed heavily as his fingers drummed on the console in front of the Firebird lever. "I love her, man."

"I know."

"I can't lose her."

"You won't." He attempted a smirk to both chide and amuse Mark. "She still needs the opportunity to kick your sorry ass."

His lip curled in response. "Bad timing, Jason."

Both Mark and Jason suddenly gasped in shock at the sight on the monitor in front of them. There was a blinding, steel shattering tornado within the complex, snaking with a blue lightning bolt image being played through Cronus' camera.

"God," Mark choked. "What … Where … Who is that?"

"Is that Princess?"

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Princess landed hard beside Cronus and stumbled on impact-weakened knees. The loss of wind resistance through the addition of some big and small bullet holes in her wing made her impact greater than expected.

"Ow, ow ow," she moaned as she shakily tried to stand.

Cronus slipped an arm around her waist in support and sighed hard at the gathering goons, who had for now, stopped shooting. "Are you going to be okay, Princess?"

She nodded. "Yeah."

"Be careful, girl. I need you here to help me."

She patted his hand in a silent request for him to remove it from her waist and took a half-step in front of him to again use herself as a shield. Both of them began to step backward as the arc of goons slowly tried to encircle the pair completely.

"You need to find something to hang on to, Sir."

He raised a brow and an empty gun in a threatening manner to the goons. "You have an idea."

"Kind of. I just need you to duck and cover, and hang on to something."

His head jutted upward as the muzzle of a gun was pressed under his jaw. "Another tornado?"

She pushed the gun away from him and stepped further in front of him. "Um. Kind of. Something a little new."

"Tell me it's a tried and true attack."

She lifted her arms and let her wings splay behind her as she prepared to leap. "In simulation, yes." She kicked and leapt high over the heads of the goons. "Just hang on to something, Sir. I don't know if I'll have total control over the outcome of this."

The head goon pointed up at her as she leapt over their heads. "Forget about him, get her!"

Cronus screwed up his face, but didn't argue with the Swan's command. He ducked underneath a fire extinguisher cupboard and hung on tight to the leg.

Watching Princess wasn't so much of an "I need to protect her" move as it was a need to see her in a fight. As much as he felt he probably shouldn't watch, he knew he had to. There were five sets of eyes looking on her through his. He had to show them her final fight.

She landed much more softly this time around, with one foot pointed and the other locked at her knee to break the fall. She let her body sway from side to side in a final appraisal of the scene and the location of her attackers. Her eyes fell to Cronus, and she offered him a smile. As the guns cocked and locked on her, she raised her head to the ceiling and spread her arms wide. Stretched in between her hands was the cord of her yo-yo.

Her eyes closed and she let her weapon fire it's lethal electrical charge.

Her eyes shot open and her lungs expelled a long yell of pain as her body began to spin.

Cronus nearly choked. What was she doing? What the Hell kind of game was this?

Kamikaze Swan?

Her voice seemed to echo off the walls as she lights inside the room began to flicker, and then explode one-by-one. Their lights, and a tendril of power from the remaining sockets sucked into the tornado.

He could see her tiny form inside the tornado, spinning and stretching inside. Her arms, outstretched and in a dangerous position against the damning winds, suddenly drew inwards, one drew up, the other down. In the higher hand was the face of her weapon, hot and blue with electricity.

Her eyes, the green emeralds that melted a man, flashed open and seemed to stop her spinning within the cocoon. They were on fire – a fire as blue as the eyes of her lover. The fire rose with the lifting of her head to the weapon, it rose to the yo-yo and began to wrap around the entire tornado. It started as a thick tendril of energy that circled the cocoon, and quickly enveloped her, before drawing itself back into the weapon.

There was a loud cry from within the tornado, and her arms snapped outward again, catching the wind current and spinning the young woman once more. Her right knee lifted to lock her foot against her knee, and her entire body lifted off the floor.

Cronus gasped as the tornado waned and Princess became fully visible to him again. It was now that he realized that the expulsion of turbulence, the key element of the tornado, was absent. The room below her was still full of confused – but in awe – goons.

"Princess!" he called as the spin died. "Princess, it didn't work!"

She didn't respond verbally, however her eyes, still full of blue fire grazed through the throng to find him. They blinked at him in recognition then shot back into the crowd.

Princess, finally free of the tornado, swung her yo-yo over her head, then pirouetted to draw it into a circle around her.

It crackled blue and loud against the air, and then sparked, sending a long ribbon of electricity through the goons at mid-level. Each of them jolted against the ribbon as if sliced in half at the waist, then fell backward.

Her new, slower spin stopped, and the swan panted with exertion.

"Fuck." Cronus breathed, "Anderson, what are you teaching these kids?"

Princess' body still rippled with static, her eyes pulsed between green and blue.

It was obvious she needed a single release.

"Princess," Cronus called, wondering if this suddenly charged creature was in control of her own self. "Princess, are you alright?"

Her head snapped in his direction as he slowly crawled out of his hiding place. She pointed her finger at him. "I said duck and cover, Sir," her voice, full of fire, ordered. "Don't move!"

She was looking for a release. He could see that. There was no way he was going to be the target.

Her release came in the form of a single goon. A man who had hidden himself in the shadows as she attacked. He drew himself out of hiding and pointed a canon-sized gun at her.

"Nice try, Swan," he droned over the butt of a cigarette. "But not good enough to save you both."

Her head ticked to one side, and a smile danced at her mouth. "Thank you, Buddha," she breathed as she drew her yo-yo.

"That little toy is no match again my canon, Swan," the goon laughed as he flicked a switch to warm the weapon. "Say goodbye!"

She smiled and held the weapon, face out, inside both hands. With not so much as a whisper, she tripped the charge trigger in the finger-ring.

The weapon whirred and crackled, and in a split second a white/blue expulsion of energy blew forward from her yo-yo toward and through the canon, through the goon, and then through the wall behind him.

She held on to her weapon with all of her strength. Her head ducked downward to shield her eyes from the flash. As the firing charge grew to finally extinguish itself, it pushed her backward. Her feet slid slowly against the pressure as the charge ripped through the wall and lifted to tear a hole in the ceiling and roof to expose them to the night sky.

She didn't have total control over it …

And then it was over.

The room blackened to only moonlight and emergency lighting.

Princess shuffled her feet on the floor. She stumbled. She whimpered. She fell to the ground.

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The cocoon on their monitors began to suck in energy from around it. Light bulbs popped, electrical boxes zapped.

The screen went black.

"What the fuck?" Jason demanded as the image on the screen in front of him suddenly faded to black. He flicked and reflicked the switches in front of him. "What happened?"

Mark's mouth was gaped. "What was that?"

Jason shook his head. "I don't know man. Does that mean she's safe, or what?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. Hell, I don't know." He raised his communicator to his mouth. "Keyop, what's the status? Are you ready?"

The boy in question burst onto the Command deck and leapt into his seat in preparation for firebird. "Done!"

"Great!" Mark yelled as he grabbed at the lever and prepared himself for a fast and dangerous flight to save his girlfriend.

"Firemode!"


	14. Chapter 14

Cronus scuffled across the floor to where Princess was slumped. Although hesitant to touch her, he pressed his hands into her shoulder to roll her on to her back.

Hot. That was the only way to describe how she felt to the touch right now. There was no snapping energy, no little electric shock, but she was hot. He coaxed her into consciousness by calling her name and gently shaking her.

"Come on, Swan." He pulled her up into a seated position and let her head lean heavily on his shoulder. "Come on, girl. Wake up. We've got to get out of here."

She groaned in response to his gentle order. "I think I need to work on that a little more."

Cronus hauled her to her feet and began to drag her to the hangars. "No, hon. I think you need to back off the supernatural shit…"

Her consciousness was finally returning, and she gently attempted to separate from him as they ran over littered bodies for escape. "Supernatural my ass, Sir. That's all Science."

He made sure she was stable on her feet, and then let her pull away from him. "Science fiction, yeah. Star Trek, Harry Potter, wizardry shit."

She stepped ahead of him to unhitch and open a large steel door. "Physics more like it," she retorted as she took a quick look around. "I actually think we're okay right now."

He smirked at the absolute lack of goons and agreed. "Yeah." He looked at the Harrier jet she had suggested he fly, and groaned. "I hate that damn plane."

"T.S., Sir. It's your only option unless you want to ride on the back of my bike."

He narrowed his eyes at her and walked up the small ladder to board the jet. "I've seen the way you kids drive. I'll take my chances with the plane most likely to fall out of the sky."

She chuckled and pulled the ladder away from the jet. She quickly did a run around to ensure all necessary ports and intakes were free of obstruction and gave him a thumbs-up sign. "You'd better hurry, Sir. I don't know how long we're going to be free of Spectrans here."

He shook his head, yet fires the engines of the small jet. "What about you?"

"I'll be fine. I'll grab my bike and make sure this place goes up with a bang as I leave."

He frowned. "I'm not leaving you here, Princess."

"Yes you are. Now go, please." She hurriedly looked around and backed away from the jet. "I'll see you on the outside."

"Not until I know you're going to get out of here in one piece."

Princess looked flustered. She looked from side to side in search of the enemy. Finally she climbed on to her bike and flicked a switch on the fuel tank. The bike asked for a voice code and she gave it, letting the bike roar to life. "See, I'm fine. Now go!"

Satisfied, finally, Cronus threw the controls of the jet to allow it to perform its vertical take-off. He gave her a thumbs up and a salute, then turned the plane in the air to take off out of the base.

She sighed when she saw him safely in the air. "It's all up to you now, Sir."

"Bravo, bravo," Zoltar's voice droned from behind her as he clapped his hands in a slow, sarcastic manner.

She twisted her body to look over her shoulder at him and let out a small peep. "Oh, no."

Zoltar's lip curled in disgust and he rushed her. He took hold of her helmet with his fingers and roughly tugged her off the bike. He laughed when she stumbled in shock. "Not so much fight left in you, now. Is there?"

She tried to look through the spray spots of saliva on her visor from his laugh. In response, mainly with the knowledge that after all this, after her fight, she was going to be killed by probably a single bullet, she laughed. The laugh started small, insignificant, but soon became loud and very insulting the Spectra's reigning monarch. "No. Not really, Zoltar."

His fist curled around the turtle-neck collar of her wings. "You laugh, little girl?" He shook her. He shook her like a frustrated parent would shake their child. "What is it about this situation you find so funny?"

"I won," she laughed as her head rolled backward and forward with the shake. "I completed my mission, defeated your men and freed the prisoner."

"But you're going to die."

She calmed her laugh and looked at him with her most innocent stare. "I don't care. I knew this was a kamikaze mission when I took it. You're just making sure my mission is finished as it should be."

His lip curled in disgust and he roughly threw her backward against her bike. "I should put a bullet in your brain, Swan," he spat more in frustration than anything else.

She nodded as her body tried to reclaim its energy. "Yes, you should."

He rushed her again, this time clamping his hand around her throat. She snarled as he squeezed tightly in an attempt to shut out her life. "I won't let you get away with this, Swan. You will die by my hand."

"And G-Force will become so much stronger against you."

He gritted his teeth and tightened his grip on her. "Die. Why don't you all just die?"

She gasped painfully, her eyes rolled up and back as her face began to turn blue. "I'll see you in Hell," she choked.

He squeezed at her throat even harder. "Keep the fires down there warm for me."

There was a loud whiz through the air and then a loud cough of splintering concrete as a missile from a small military jet smashed its way through the complex. Within a moment, the missile exploded in a room just beyond the hangars.

Zoltar looked up quickly and released his hold on Princess' throat. "G-Force," he hissed low as he turned tail and began to run.

Princess flopped down against her bike and gasped gulps of air. "Mark?" she called in hope as she weakly mounted her vehicle. And revved it a couple of times.

Zoltar paused at the doorway and curled a lip as he saw the swan, now his new greatest enemy, maneouvre her bike toward the exit. She revved it hard and then lifted her feet to ride the Hell out of there. He raised his gun to aim at her back and squeezed off a single round before the sound of a second missile whizzed over his head.

He made sure to watch the body lurch as the bullet struck its target.

"See you in Hell, Swan."

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It burned like a bitch.

That was the only way Princess could describe the impact and penetration of a bullet into her shoulder.

Much like her first sexual experience. Even with the kind gentle touch of the man she loved, the burn was at times too hard to handle.

Right now, however, that painful first time experience, with her tears and silent begs for him to stop, would be a welcome sensation over this.

At least Mark would stop, kiss away her tears and assure her it would all get better, and the pain would stop.

This, she knew, wouldn't.

First time sex with Mark didn't kill her.

This could very well do so.

She clutched at her shoulder and gritted her teeth as she tried to look through blurred vision toward the exit. She softly spoke his name and raised her communicator to her lips as her injured shoulder worked hard to control her steering and squeeze of the bike's throttle.

"Base, detonate."

Behind her, in a perfectly synchronized set of explosions, the base began its self destruction.

She dropped her hand to the center of the fuel tank, where the fire-mode button had been installed on her bike. She punched it hard and kicked hard on the gear shift pedal to put the bike into overdrive.

As a protective dome flipped over her and her bike, the base behind and around her lit up with a deafening and massive explosion.


	15. Chapter 15

Fiery Phoenix was, perhaps, one of G-Force's greatest defenses. Their ship became virtually invincible and impenetrable. They could explode through buildings, explosions, nuclear blasts and even through the center of the Earth while in fiery mode and not suffer a single detriment. It could speed up their ship when necessary, much like a shot of nitro in the G-2, and give them that little extra edge that was so necessary in a fight.

But it also caused the team momentary blindness. They could not receive nor transmit messages or images to and from any other source.

It was a dangerous maneouvre for them to use within US airspace, however, which is why it was rarely an option on earth-bound flights. They wouldn't see another aircraft until the fire mode was over and the other craft had been downed.

And so the same was today. The moment Mark pulled the lever and gave the command for Fiery Phoenix, the team was running blind. So the sight to greet the G-Force team as their warship's fire-mode faltered into normal flight mode was the final explosion of the Spectran Base.

No Princess, no battle, no Cronus. Just a massive explosion.

Mark was positively mortified as he watched the orange fireball finally engulf all of the base and the surrounding land.

"God," he choked, ignoring the long wail from Keyop's station. "Are we too late?"

Jason tried his best to look stoic, but faltered under the possibility his team confidante, and the girl he called his kid-sister, was probably inside when the base exploded.

"Tiny," he stammered meekly, knowing full-well that Keyop would be useless at anything beyond wailing for his sister. "Ground search, please."

Mark nodded in agreement, thankful that Jason had stepped in to lead for a moment. "Please, find something, Tiny. Please, God. Find her."

"Page her," Jason whispered hoarsely, unable to maintain his usual emotionless demenour.

Mark nodded and almost reluctantly raised his bracelet to his lips. "G-1 to G-3. Princess, are you on?"

Silence.

He frowned and tried again. "Princess, please respond."

Still more silence.

"That's an order, G-3. Answer me. Damn you, Prin, answer." He inhaled long and shaking, suddenly guilty at being so abrasive over the com-band. "Honey, please. I need you to tell me you're okay."

There was still silence from her band. He closed his eyes and tilted his head to the side, just a little. His hands gripped hard at the console in front of him. "Tiny?" he breathed finally in a gentle order for Tiny to do as he was asked a few moments ago.

Tiny wiped at his eyes and nodded, while slightly confused at the request considering Jason was usually the one who would handle ground searches in Princess' absence, he didn't argue. "Jason, can you land her? I'll set her to do a ground sweep of moving targets."

Jason tapped his shoulder to ask him to move and took over the controls as Tiny shifted to a massive console beside his usual station to call up the ground sonar.

Behind the two of them, Mark scanned the forward monitor to search the skies. Cronus was a pilot; perhaps he got the two of them out by plane. Screw the G-3 they didn't need it. They needed her; they didn't need the machinery.

"Jason, Tiny, anything?" He asked as he felt Keyop's tiny arms wrap around his torso so that the youngster could get the sympathy he wanted. He looked down at the child and sighed hard not knowing exactly what to do. "Don't worry, Keyop. I bet she made it out."

"Yeah, Kid," Jason added as he pulled the lever for the Phoenix's landing gear. "You bet she got out."

Keyop wailed, unhappy with the inept way the boys handled his misery. He dropped to his knees and continued to sob like a wounded child.

"Tiny," Mark hoarsely choked out as he pointed down to Keyop. "Could you…?"

Tiny gave a nod and grunted as he thumbed back to the monitor. "Yeah, Mark. There's nothing moving on the ground." He stood and approached the wailing Swallow, crouching to him to offer the sympathy and comfort the two eldest couldn't.

Mark nodded slowly and let out a long huff. "Do you think she made it?" he asked his second quietly.

Jason answered with only a glance. The glance was doubtful, but the sigh he gave held out a little credit for the girl. He let the Phoenix touch ground and punched at the buttons to kill the engines. "Let's do a ground search ourselves."

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The four birds slowly exited the rear ramp of their craft and were immediately hit by the stench of a burning Spectran base. While each individual odour could never be identified by a man's nose alone, the combined smell gave its source loud and clear.

Death.

None of them wanted to think about it, or assume their wonderful sister/teammate/love would be inside that smell; part of that smell.

Mark held off retching as best he could. He needed to hold it together for the benefit of the guys. He shuddered as he tilted his head away from the heat.

"We split up, guys."

Jason nodded in agreement. "The faster we find her, the …"

A voice, pissed off and volatile interrupted their planning.

"What the Hell took you guys so damn long? Centre Neptune is not that far from here."

All four immediately spun on their heels to take on the owner of the voice. Each gasped in their own way when they saw who it was.

Cronus marched out from behind the Phoenix's rear set of wheels into the illumination offered by the Phoenix's landing lights. He stumbled as if fighting against something tying him down. "Fuck, God damn chute…"

Mark gasped in shock at seeing the man he long believed to be dead. "Father?"

Cronus snarled in response, irritated by the parachute that he'd had to quickly put on when he ejected from the Harrier after getting caught in the blast, catching on the shrubbery and tires of the Phoenix's landing gear. "Yes, son. It's me." He finally grunted and took a relaxing breath. This breath gave him the opportunity to remember how easy it actually was to drop a parachute from the pack, and he did so, easily stepping out of it.

Jason immediately snarled at him and leapt forward, pinning him against the wheel joist of the front set of landing gear. "Where is she?"

Cronus' shackles immediately rose at the attack of the Condor. He curled a lip in an identical manner as his attacker and lowered his head a few millimeters in the hope of looking more intimidating. "Get your hands off me, Condor. You're not going to find her by rough housing with me."

"Did she get out?" He snarled low in response.

"I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know? Did you leave her in there alone?"

Cronus lowered his voice an octave. "She was supposed to be right behind me."

"You left her alone?" The Condor was incredulous.

Mark huffed calmly and quietly and thumbed over his shoulder. "Jason. Leave him alone. This isn't helping us find Princess."

Jason's head turned slightly in Mark's direction, but his eyes remained on Cronus. "After I kill him, Mark."

"Jason," Mark warned low. "He's not worth it."

Cronus' eyes widened in surprise at Mark's calmly delivered, but emotion heavy order. That wasn't exactly the kind of thing a father wanted to hear from his son …

Jason didn't question it, however. He grunted and made sure to give Cronus' shoulders a hard shove against the landing gear before he pulled away. "To be continued," he spat as he pointed a finger at him and turned to join his Commander.

Cronus rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck in a post confrontation loser move, then stepped to Mark's side – opposite to Jason.

"She didn't exactly give me a choice," he offered in a seemingly nonchalant manner.

Mark's eyes remained steeled to the front of them, but he said nothing. At his sides, however, his hands balled into fists.

"Where was she when you last saw her?" Jason tried when he realized Mark wasn't saying anything.

"Climbing on to her bike after being throttled by Zoltar."

"And you were, what? Just climbing into the plane? Taking off? Already flying?"

Cronus dipped his head to look past Mark toward Jason. "Actually, I was already in the air."

Mark's breathing rate began to increase, but he remained silent. Jason, however, refused to stay quiet.

"So let me get this straight. You got in to a jet and took off, while Princess was still in the fight?"

Cronus sighed. "Well, not exactly. We thought it was done. All she had to do was get on her bike and take off out of there. If she didn't waste time …"

His words were cut off by the sudden and violent interruption of Mark's fist against his cheek. Cronus stumbled and all but fell backward onto his ass. He was too shocked and blindsided to react physically, however he did manage to splutter: "What the?"

Mark had returned to his position beside Jason. He didn't so much as rub at his knuckles after the hit. He simply maintained a stoic and vigilant watch of the scene.

Jason actually appeared shade a smile by chewing on his cheek. He let his eyes drop to Keyop's level as the boy bolted out of the rear ramp doors with the Ship's fire extinguisher in his hand. "Hey, kid. What do you think you're going to do with that?"

Keyop pointed at the fire. "What … d'you …think?" he breeped and brooped in a more exaggerated manner than usual.

"I really don't think that's going to do much …"

The back of Mark's hand lightly hit at Jason's chest. "Let him, Jason."

Jason swept his hand through the air to indicate the sheer size of the inferno. "But it's not going to even put a small dent in that."

Mark's arms slowly slid in front of him to cross at his chest. "Emergency crews won't be here for a while. If it makes him feel better to try, let's not stop him."

"And us?"

He sighed. "We wait. I'm not leaving here without her."

"If she's gone?"

Mark sniffed hard and watched the team's youngest battle the flames with the small fire extinguisher. "Dead or alive, Jason. Princess comes home in the Phoenix with us." He looked over his shoulder at Cronus, who had sucked up his pride and was watching the two men as if he was their leader. "Unlike others, G-Force doesn't leave anyone behind."

"And him?" He asked, indicating Cronus with a thumb over the shoulder.

"Princess risked her life to save him, Jason. She had a mission, and we'll make sure it's completed." He twisted his body to offer the Ranger's Colonel a look over his shoulder. "He'll return with us."

"Tied to the dome at the top?"

Mark had to snort a laugh - a laugh that was quickly curbed by a call of his rank from Tiny. The largest of the G-Force team had wandered into the smallest part of the fire to begin a rough search of the rubble for his team mate.

What he had found, he cradled gently in his arms as he solemnly walked back to his two senior officers.

Mark only had to half glance at the bundle in the Owl's arms. He swayed, and fell to his knees. In a penitent position, with his arms raised to the heavens, he called a long cry of his lover's name.

She can't be gone …


	16. Chapter 16

The first sense to return to Princess as her eyes fluttered under closed lids, was feeling. There was pain, pain beyond anything she'd ever experienced before.

Her voice returned at that point to let out a long and painful groan.

Taste came next, sharing with her the coppery-metal taste of blood in her mouth.

Her smell drove in to the senses drive-thru closely after taste. There were flames dancing around unspent jet fuel waiting for ignition, as well as burning flesh and hair. In amongst that was her combat perfume of TNT and gunpowder. She could isolate the stench of burnt-out electricity and human waste. With one Sense still shut off from the rest, she could only strengthen the others beyond their normal capabilities. TNT, death, fire, fuel, electricity, waste … and something else. An accelerant; one she was familiar with. It was a smell carefully crafted by the G-Force chemists to isolate the team from other, more usual, sources of flame. The one for the Firebird.

The Phoenix!

Her eyes flashed open to complete the pentagon of senses.

The guys were here. They were here for her rescue.

Immediately upon opening her eyes, she was forced to close them again. The blinding light of the flames, and the hot, dry, hiss of superheated air quickly burned against her eyes. She coughed and attempted to roll to face the other direction away from the fire.

Her bullet-pierced shoulder burned a protest at the roll and made her jolt her body back onto her side. She clutched at the injury, crying through gritted teeth as she tried to breathe the pain away.

"Mark," she hissed in a whispered call to hopefully get their attention. She knew they couldn't be too far away. If she could still smell the Firebird's scent, they had to be close. "Mark, I'm here."

There was no answer, no hurried rush to her side by any of her team.

She called again, this time arching her back in the dirt as she rolled her head backward to allow her voicebox an unobstructed exit to yell.

"Mark .. Jason … guys!"

"I'm here."

"Help me."

Surely Cronus had seen her exit. Her bike, no doubt, shot out like a miniature version of the firebird. The shape should have been undeniable and obvious. Nothing, no natural flame nor created flame, could mimic the beak, wings and tail of a firebird.

He helped create it. He should immediately know it.

The bike …?

Fire mode …?

The reality dawned on her. The scent she smelled wasn't the Phoenix. It was her bike. The damned bike!

She coughed a sob of both pain and realization. The boys weren't here for her. She was alone, she was in pain, she had no idea how she was going to get back.

She slowly, painfully, and loudly pulled herself up on to her hands and knees and winced with a new pain as the glass from her shattered glass dome cut at her palms. She pulled her hands quickly upward and rocked herself back into a kneeling position. As she finally opened her eyes to survey the damage to her hands, she realized she was out of birdstyle.

Now she had a new emotion to battle. Panic.

Panic in that if she had transformed out of birdstyle, there had to be a serious interruption within her circuitry. If there was a problem through the implant, the boot, or her transponder band, she would very likely be completely out of contact with Centre Neptune and the boys.

In a rush, she tried to punch a birdscramble into her bracelet.

Nothing.

No flashing light.

No beep.

Not even a click to indicate depression of the faceplate.

She looked at the faceplate. It was shattered. There were break lines underneath the protective laminate surface of the face glass, and a nasty grey spread of leaking liquid crystal in between the cracks and along the largest unbroken section.

She let out a disappointed breath and raised her hand over her brow and into her hair as she straightened her back to look over the scene for any sign of anyone nearby.

"God, what do I do?"

What had happened? Where had she managed to screw up so badly that she lost transmutation contact and ended up unconscious in the dirt?

Her head lowered in thought after a brief scan of the scene, where she really hadn't taken any notice of her surroundings. She'd escaped easily enough, and thrown the bike into fire mode.

The canopy had closed around her quickly enough, she'd felt the heat of the flame …

She squinted in concentration.

She'd jumped off a fallen roofing beam and used it as a ramp to give her the ability to try out the short burst flight option.

It failed!

The damn thing had failed.

Her eyes widened as she remembered her bike suddenly shuddering within the jump, and then a small explosion through the two rear exhaust pipes behind her feet. The explosion ripped apart the dome and allowed debris from the base explosion to pound at her body and the bike.

She lost her helmet early in the melee. It flew front to back off her head after a long steel beam rammed the bike's tire and flipped her to face the incoming explosion.

At that point she remembered becoming engulfed in a hot blast of dust and fire…

And then …

She remembered nothing before waking.

"Oh. Shit," she moaned softly as she allowed herself a moment of self pity. She thread both hands into her hair at her brow-line, and lowered herself into a contemplative and kneeling ball. "Why didn't I just die?"

She finally pressed her hands into the dirt to arch her back in preparation of drawing herself to a stand. It was time for her to figure out a way home.

A haunted call of her name wafted past her along the changing desert wind.

Mark?

Her head immediately, and against her own body's protest, rose to view the horizon.

That was Mark's voice. It had to be.

She shakily rose to her feet in hopes of being able to see that little bit higher over the flame. The sight off in the distance suddenly revitalized the young woman. She could see it as clear as day - the nose of the Phoenix.

It loomed in the distance a good kilometer away. She couldn't see the guys, but she could see the ship.

Hurriedly she looked around for her bike. She had to get to them.

Her bike was exactly where she had been. Like Mark would be on occasion, the bike had chosen to be her sleeping partner. She'd obviously nestled beside it for safety and shelter against the fire.

With a renewed smile she leapt over to it and pulled it up to a stand.

"Come on, girl," she urged as she mounted the vehicle and twisted the throttle. "Let's get back home."

The bike responded with a sputter and tick, but didn't start.

She frowned at the fuel tank of her mecha and tried again. "Come on, Baby. Start for Mommy."

Again her bike sputtered. It gave a defeated cough and rattle.

Princess moaned and gave a half-laugh of irony. "Oh you've really got to be kidding me." She tried the bike again, her laugh turning into more of a desperate growl. "Oh come on, Girl. I need medical attention, you need medical attention. The Phoenix is just a short way off. Please start. Please…"

In response, the bike seemed to pick up a little. Its splutter became more of a haggard rev that seemed like at any minute the engine would turn over. It rolled and rolled, and finally kicked over. It roared to life with a depth of a purr she'd never heard before.

She kicked up her feet to begin the short journey back to the boys. "I promise you the most premium of premium gas, and the most potent whiskey for me once we get back to base, baby!"

The bike rolled less than one hundred metres before the right back exhaust pipe backfired. A bright orange flame shot out behind her, kissed at the flames of the inferno, then kicked back to render the heavy machine completely useless. It jerked and rattled, then stopped dead.

She began to cry as she vainly tried to restart the bike. "Please, girl. Please start."

It refused.

"Don't let them leave without me," she begged as she continued to try.

Again, nothing.

In a fit of frustration, she let out a loud cry and roughly dismounted the bike. She pushed it on its side, kicked at the wounded beast and stomped off a few metres ahead of her. She strode purposely toward the Phoenix, desperate to see the team and to ensure Cronus made it out okay.

Cronus …

She swore to herself that if Cronus made it out alive the first thing she would do would be to hug him. Hug him and thank him for saving her life.

He truly was a hero.

She couldn't wait to see the reunion of father and son back at Centre Neptune. Mark was going to be thrilled!

There was a low roar behind her, a roar of a wounded animal begging to be put out of its misery. The sound made her spin on the ball of her foot and prepare for attack. She'd gotten this far, dammit, she wasn't dying now.

She didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the owner of the roar when she finally saw it. Her bike, which she'd neglected to take the keys from, or turn it to the off position, still tried to roar to life. The back wheel turned slowly and the light flashed and dimmed out.

Her bottom lip stuck out at the sight. She couldn't leave the poor thing here in this condition. The bike was her baby, she had to bring her back to the ship.

With a moan that mirrored the sounds of oncoming emergency vehicles, she strode back to her bike and gingerly pulled it upright.

"I suppose I can lean on you as you lean on me," she sighed dejectedly as her eyes shifted back to the Phoenix. "Even if the guys leave, we'll still have some way of getting home."

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Tiny held the fragile-looking Swan helmet in his arms as he met with his Commander.

"Mark, man I'm sorry," he spluttered as he watched the proud Eagle shatter in front of him.

Jason reached both arms forward to take the precious article from Tiny's arms. "Is she? Was she …" He couldn't finish the question.

Tiny shook his head. "I didn't see her there, Jason. There's still a chance she got out, this is all I found, and it is pretty much intact."

Jason hiccupped and stepped in to Tiny's shadow as Keyop tried to look past him from where he was in the fire. "We can't tell Keyop just yet, Tiny. Not until we know for sure."

Tiny nodded and dropped his head. He shook it slowly. "I can't see how she could've gotten out, man. That thing was in the middle of all that."

Jason's eyes slowly closed as he nodded in agreement.

Mark finally snapped. Much like the youngest member, his sanity finally lost out to his overwhelming desire to see her alive. He leapt to his feet as the sirens from approaching emergency vehicles began to pull up all around them. "No, she made it out. She isn't dead!" He shoved the helmet out of Jason's arms and barely winced as the visor shattered on impact.

"Jason, you coordinate with the fire chief and make sure they get as much water on that shit as possible. I want you to watch every one of them and make sure they tell you if they see so much as a hair on a gnat's ass move out of place, they tell you."

Jason raised a brow and nodded in a curious acceptance of orders. "Uh, yeah, okay."

"Tiny," Mark ordered next, "I want you in there digging through that rubble. You're the strongest of us, and you have the greater body protection. I want you to shift the whole god damned continent if you have to. We don't leave until she's found."

Tiny coughed, but sighed. "I'll just go grab me an oxygen mask then, Mark."

"Yeah, well be fast, okay. We don't want to waste time."

"Because you haven't already," he murmured under his breath.

"What?"

"Uh, big ten, Commander!"

He turned to Cronus and pointed a blue-gloved finger at him. "And why don't you make yourself useful. I want you to…"

"Let the emergency crew do the job, Mark," Cronus said softly, but with his own commanding tone. "G-Force aren't trained for this, they are."

"Don't argue with me on this, Sir."

Cronus shook his head and raised his hand to tell Mark to stop. "Hold it together, boy," he said in a low warning tone as the chiefs of the crews began to circle to G-Force team as their own teams began to do their work. "Don't go and put the rest of your team in danger like this just because you hold out some kind of hope that she got out. I think the answer to that question is pretty damn obvious, wouldn't you?"

"She's not dead," Mark spat as he finally rushed his old man and shoved him into the same position that Jason held him in earlier. "And if you had the balls to stick around and make sure she was okay before you ran away, we wouldn't have to go through all this."

Cronus grunted and set his hands over Mark's that were gripping tightly at the front of his shirt, and struggled to free himself from his grip. "She was right behind me, Mark. There wasn't anything I could do."

"I should throw you into the flames, myself."

Cronus narrowed his eyes in challenge. "Then do it."

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Princess frowned at the time it was taking to travel such a short distance toward the Phoenix. She could have sworn that it was less than a Kilometer away, yet it had taken her at least a half hour already to make it probably two thirds of the way through that distance. It didn't help that she was really beginning to ache. The weight of the bike seemed to increase with each new step, and this caused her to sway right and left in an attempt to keep it upright. She knew if she let it fall she wouldn't have the strength left to pull it back upright.

Cronus had been right. She should have taken the opportunity to rest up and recharge her strength before she made to leave the base. The implant was a great stimuli when needed in battle, but when it decided enough was enough …

She was fighting to remain conscious.

"Only a little way to go," she sighed softly to her bike as she stooped her chest to garner more strength to push. "We'll have you safely in the Phoenix in no time, baby. Just help me out a little, okay?"

It was easy to see the swarming emergency crews around the fire. Their uniforms seemed to glow within the fire. Throughout the smoke, steam and fire, their bodies were littered. Some were armed with water hoses, others had small axes. All were dressed in yellow and black with reflective markings that shone through the smoke. All were identical … except one. One was wearing green.

Green.

Spectran?

She gasped and squinted her eyes for focus.

The man in green was wearing wings. Wings and a birdstyle helmet.

Tiny!

She smiled at that point. She smiled and felt her body begin to warm and energize at the knowledge that she was now safe.

"Tiny!" she called out hoarsely, immediately recoiling herself toward her injured shoulder. "Tiny! Over here!"

The big man slowly turned his head, and then his torso, into the direction of her voice. He had to shake himself. Throughout the din and the haze he saw her figure.

"Princess?"

Keyop, standing next to him and now covered in red dirt and charcoal, looked up from his vantage point. "You see her?"

Tiny had to tilt his head to both hear Keyop and to better see the figure in the distance. As the wind kicked a small void in the smoke, he saw the reflective number three on the chest of the figure, and the unmistakable cherry-striped pants.

"Princess!"

He smacked his hand on Keyop's back and ran towards his female team mate. When he finally reached her position, where she had patiently waited once she knew he'd seen her, he immediately pulled her into his arms and lifted her from the ground in a hard bear hug.

"Princess, how are you? Are you okay? Are you injured?"

She almost giggled at his attention, and at the imminent arrival of her cheering youngest brother, but forced a guilty look of sticking out her bottom lip. "I think I broke my bike."

Tiny stopped his jubilant laugh and frowned as he looked into her face. "Your bike? Who cares about the bike?" He oomphed as Keyop threw himself at him to join in the hug.

"Princess … we were … worried," he managed between excited broops and beeps.

She gave a small giggle. "Don't worry about me, Keyop. I'm a big tough, indestructible girl."

"Apparently not," Tiny responded low as he took in the state of her small frame. "You look like Hell."

She sighed. "I'll be okay, Tiny. Just get me on the Phoenix…"

"To a hospital," he corrected gruffly.

She nodded with a pout and shifted herself so that she stood beside him. "I'm okay, Tiny. Honestly."

He began to walk the two of them toward the Phoenix after making sure Keyop took the bike from Princess. "God, girl. You had us all worried."

She snuggled into his side and shrugged with one shoulder as she dipped her head innocently to the side. "Mark's pissed off, isn't he?"

"More worried than anything right now. Give him time, though, and you'll be in for one heck of a talking to." He winked at her as he raised his wrist to his lips to alert his Commander. "Speaking of. Let me tell the man I've found you okay."

"Correction," she said with a mock stern voice. "I found you."

"Yeah, true." He muttered before clearing his throat. "G-5 to G-1. Mark, you finished beating the old man, or what?"

Mark answered quickly, and with a definite edge in his voice. "Ears on, Tiny. What did you find?"

He smirked. "I found myself a pretty little bird with green eyes pushing along a broken bike."

"Is she okay?"

Princess hummed lightly as she drew Tiny's wrist to her mouth. She then cleared her throat and put on her best wounded child tone. "I got an owie."

The giggle she gave at the end must calmed him, because they all heard him let out a relieved breath. "Where are you?"

Tiny waved from their position and chose to call out rather than use the com-link. "Right here, Mark."

Mark spun his body toward the voice. His face, still worried and frustrated, fell into relief when he saw Tiny supporting Princess. His shoulders fell from their stressed upward position. "Thank you, God," he sighed as the trio finally walked into the lights of the Phoenix.

Jason let out a cheer and shoved Mark out of his way to get to Princess first. He pulled her from Tiny's arms into a light and protective embrace. "Princess. Damn girl, where've you been?"

She closed her eyes and smiled at the Condor's attention. "I decided to take a little nap before I trekked home."

He pulled back from her and gave her a concerned look as he took in her condition. "Looks like med. Leave for you for a while."

"I'd be happy with a hot shower and my bed."

"Let me go get a medic for you." He didn't let her argue before he bounded off to find the first paramedic he encountered.

Princess smiled sleepily as his back as he left, and then cast her eyes to the nose wheel of the Phoenix, where her Commander stood in his usual, unmovable position.

She didn't expect him to rush her, to gush or cheer that she'd returned to the team – he wasn't like that. She waited for his gentle, boyish smile and for him to tell her he was happy she was back. When he didn't immediately move, she prodded him with an innocent and playful question.

"Hi Mark. Did you miss me?"

He glanced to his left, then to his right as if making sure noone was watching, then removed his helmet and stepped toward her. The first step was slow, deliberate and unsure, but quickly became a fast trot. He pulled her hard into his arms and held her tight as he buried his nose into her hair.

His hold tightened with every deep gulp of air he took. "I thought I'd lost you."

She sighed deeply inside his embrace. "You can't get rid of me that easily, Mark."

He shifted his face from her ear and pressed his forehead against hers. "Please don't joke about it. We all thought you were…" He took a breath. "… gone."

She tilted her face up to lightly touch her lips to his. "I'm sorry."

He sighed, kissed her mouth, then pulled her to him again, for a much gentler hug. "It's good to have you back."

Her eyes opened and landed on the red-dressed man smirking behind them. Her gaze widened and she roughly pulled away from Mark. "Colonel!" she gasped as she almost bumped past Mark to get to him. She threw her arms up around his neck and gave him an excited hug. "You made it out!"

His eyes widened in discomfort as she kissed his cheek. His hands were open and held away from her in an unsure manner. "Yeah, of course."

She continued to hug him, oblivious to the fact he seemed extremely uncomfortable with her doing so. "I don't know how to thank you, Sir."

"Thank me for what?"

She pulled her head back to look him in the face. "For saving my life back there. If it wasn't for you firing those missiles into the base, Zoltar would have killed me." She pulled him again into the hug. "Thank you so much."

His arms finally found their purpose and loosely folded around her to return the embrace. His voice lowered an octave. "We're even, Swan."

"I hope I did okay for you, Sir." She whispered softly.

He smiled and raised his eyes to the foursome watching with wide eyes. "I'm proud of you," he whispered in return.

Finally realizing the discomfort Cronus must be feeling, she suddenly pulled away from him and stepped backward toward the team, where she was instantly pulled in toward Mark's chest. His hands met at her midsection in a protective manner. She placed hers atop his and leaned her head back against his shoulder.

"I think I'm ready for that medic now, Mark."

He lowered his head to speak to her. "I'll go with you to the hospital."

She shook her head and pulled away from him extending her arms to prolong the contact between them. "No. Keyop can come with me. You've got some catching up to do." Her eyes flicked to Cronus, who was now smirking with his arms across his chest in a slouch against the wheel joist. "I'm so disappointed I missed your reunion."

His eyes widened and he locked his fingers with her to tell her not to leave him alone with his father. "But…"

She almost cheered to see the white gurney and quickly lay down on top if it. She snuggled in to the pillow and closed her eyes. "See you later, Mark."

Jason gave last orders to the paramedic about how they'd better treat Princess well or they'd have him to answer to. He barely got to finish the rant before Keyop shoved past to jump into the ambulance beside his sister.

Mark watched closely and was suddenly very uncomfortable. He knew he had to apologise to Cronus, but still felt as though it wasn't exactly warranted. He meant what he said.

His thoughts were interrupted by a leather-clad arm being thrown over his shoulder.

"Apology accepted, Son."

Mark's eyes shifted to Cronus, but not his head or body. "I didn't."

"I wouldn't either." He sighed. "But I know it's there."

"If anything, Sir. I should say thank you." His eyes shifted back to the retreating ambulance. "She means a lot to me … to all of us."

"She's a heck of a woman, Mark."

"I know."

Cronus pulled his arm from Mark's shoulder and joined Tiny and Jason in the march up the ramp of the Phoenix. "Just don't do anything to screw it up."

Mark tilted his head sideways to regard his father. "Meaning?"

"I mean this Melissa woman that Princess is so worked up about and worried about …"

He coughed. "She's worried about … she … I mean … She talked to you about Melissa?"

Cronus nodded. "Yeah, and if you want to keep Princess …"

"Yeah?"

"Stay away from Melissa."


	17. Chapter 17

It took only a day inside the closest hospital to the ex-Spectran base, which was ironically named Phoenix Memorial, and then two days at Centre Neptune in her on-base bed, for Princess to become battle-ready again.

The ER doctors at Phoenix memorial were, to say the least, excited to be working with the famed G-Force Swan – or so Keyop told her, anyway – her implant finally shut her body down as the doors to the ambulance closed and they left the scene, so she wasn't conscious for any of it.

She didn't wake until nearly three days later, in her own on-base bed, with Mark wrapped protectively around her. She had to pause and wonder, when she shuddered at his breath kissing at the back of her neck, whether the whole assignment had been a dream.

That idea had been put to rest exactly 23 minutes after she woke, when his eyes slowly opened and he thanked her in his own special way for bringing home his father.

And then, of course, once the fun was over, came the lecture about how she should never, ever, embark on a mission alone. How she should never leave without informing at least one member of G-Force. No matter which head honcho gave the order, she was to immediately go against them to tell one of the team where she'd be.

And that went for all members, apparently.

During her three days of implant induced comatose state, the team had held several meetings and discussions over it.

She'd spent the better part of the rest of the day thumbing through the minutes of each meeting to catch up. Following that, her detailed mission report, as well as a complete synopsis of her newest and latest attack was to be entered into the Federation database.

As she rubbed at her eyes, she groaned at the thought of having only gone through about fifty percent of the computer work that was required. Worse, that she had to do it in a room where the fluorescent light had failed and only the screen itself lighted her. It was tempting to claim that her recovery would be hampered somewhat by sitting at a computer screen for eight hours straight, but Jason repeatedly used that excuse, so she'd never get away with it.

She dropped her forehead on to the keyboard and let out a long and unimpressed groan.

"This is so boring," she moaned to herself as she let her arms hang limply down the sides of her chair.

She felt a set of hands heavily press down on her shoulders and begin to rub them. Knowing it would be Mark, she slowly raised her back to a slouched seated position and groaned. "God, that feels so good."

He didn't answer. Instead he let out a long breath and shifted his massage down off her shoulders and onto her upper arm.

"Please don't stop," she sighed as one of the hands swept her hair off her shoulders and his lips grazed at the back of her neck. "Commander," she joked in a whisper, "are you trying to distract me from my work?"

The hand still massaging her shoulder heavily shifted across to her breast and squeezed it in a manner that was hungry, and so unlike Mark.

She looked down at the hand in confusion and gasped when she saw an unfamiliar class ring on the index finger. "What the?"

She immediately shot up out of the chair and backed up to the computer screen. Her hands gripped hard at the table edge as her rump pressed against them. The identity of the person in question was unmistakable in the light of the monitor screen.

She'd know that damn smirk anywhere.

"Anson? What the Hell do you think you're doing?"

He thumbed at his nose and dipped his head in an ineffective boyish gesture. "You look like you needed some company, I was only obliging."

She couldn't hide the look of disgust. "What makes you think I'd want _your_ company?"

"I could ask the same question myself," Mark's voice boomed from the doorway beside the two of them. While he hadn't exactly witnesses the exchange, Princess' retreat to the table and subsequent panicked look told him much of the story.

Anson tilted his head at the Eagle Leader in all his Birdstyle glory, and let his eyes shift up and down his uniform. "Halloween, Mark?"

"Press Conference," he snorted as he stepped in to the room and stood between Swan and Ranger. "You didn't answer the lady's question."

Anson shrugged and thrust his hands arrogantly into his pockets. "Didn't think you'd be around for a while."

"So you thought you could try and take advantage of my third?"

He smirked. "What's good for the goose, Commander."

Mark felt Princess' eyes flick quickly to him. His head inclined downward in a threatening manner. "I wouldn't expand on that if I were you."

"But shouldn't she know?"

Princess' breath caught and she tightened her grip on the desk behind her. "Know what?"

Anson gave a short, gasped laugh as if to feign correcting himself. "Oh, yeah. Sorry. You and she aren't an item, Hell you don't even like her, so why should you need to tell her anything?"

Mark's eyes narrowed in a threatening, dangerous manner. "You know that isn't true, Anson."

Princess cleared her throat to hopefully become part of the discussion she had a feeling she didn't want to understand. "Um. What should I know?"

"Nothing," Mark assured in an even, almost disbelievable tone. "This asshole is just trying to stir up unnecessary trouble."

She pursed her lips and looked toward the floor, half believing him, and half feeling like he was hiding something. "That sounds about right."

Anson gave a short laugh. "That's not what I hear, Mark." He made a kiss-kiss sound and winked at Princess.

Princess shied back even farther. On her face was a look of pure disgust.

Mark responded to Anson's taunting with a snort. "Get out before I rip your head off your shoulders and ram it up your ass."

Anson raised both hands defensively. "Hey, hey. No need to get testy, Man. I just thought you'd be a team player, after all."

"You've got three seconds," Mark hissed as he held up the first finger and slowly counted off to three.

"Okay, okay," Anson spluttered with a shit-eating smirk. "I'll go. Jesus." He offered Princess a wink. "I'll see you later, Swannie."

Princess watched the way Mark eyeballed Anson as he walked out of the room. When he finally let out a breath and hung his head low, she touched his arm. "What was that about?"

Mark kept his head low and shook it gently. "Nothing, Princess."

"Are you sure?"

He raised his head and offered her a weak smile. "It's just boys being boys stuff, that's all."

"Ahh," she breathed in an unsure manner. "I understand."

He slid his eyes to her, alarmed by the disbelief in her tone. "Are you sure?"

She nodded. "I'm sure, Mark…"

The way she let the last word hang in the air caused Mark to angle his head in an odd manner at her. "But?"

She pushed herself from the table and humphed as she gathered her papers. "What makes you think there's a but?"

"I know you. I know when there is something left unsaid."

A twitch of a smile flicked at the side of her mouth. "No, there isn't."

"Yes there is."

"No."

He didn't like the way she didn't look at him when she spoke. It was obvious there was something she had to say. He gently took hold of her upper arms and coaxed her to turn around. When she was facing him he touched his fingers to her face. "Please, Princess. Talk to me."

She looked up into his face and let out a short breath of annoyance. "Okay. There is a but."

He nodded and dropped his hands to take hold of hers. "I'm listening."

"Why do you guys always have to involve me in your pissing contests?"

He frowned. "It's not intentional, Princess."

"But you can stop it, Mark. Just tell them to involve, insult and play games with someone else. I'm sick and tired of it." She huffed as she turned from him and began to shove her papers into a pink manilla envelope. "I put up with enough shit from everyone else, I don't need it from my allies too."

"I'm sorry, Princess."

She continued to stuff the papers, not seeming to care whether or not it was neat and in order – something totally unlike her. "I try, and I try to prove I'm as good as all of you, but it never gets any better." She hiccupped when she felt his arms circle her waist from behind and he made soft shushing sounds against her ear. "You'll never understand how it is to be the girl. To be the one every one treats like a giant joke."

"I don't think like that Prin. None of the team do."

She coughed. "But the Rangers, those damn Rangers." She held onto the arms around her waist. "I bring home their leader, am almost killed in the process … and I still can't get their respect."

"Do you really need it?" he questioned softly as his body very gently gave a minute sway to comfort her.

"I'd like it, Mark."

"But do you need it? Are they really worth it?"

She let out a long sigh. "I guess not." She turned inside his arms to angle her body into his. "But if I can get his respect, why can't I get theirs?"

He smirked. "I would think that getting his respect would be the ultimate goal. Hell, I know that's my loftiest plan right now."

She smiled. "You know that you have it already."

"Okay then, that he'd admit I have his respect."

She had to giggle. "That is about as likely as Jason admitting it."

A groan. "I know."

He tried to coax her toward the door. "Are you coming to the press conference?"

She shook her head. "No, I have somewhere I need to be."

He pouted. "Not even for moral support, Prin? My number one girl can't be there by my side?"

Her eyes rolled, then she seemed to straighten. With a teasing look in her eye she folded her arms against her chest and slouched to one side. "Number one? You mean your only one."

He groaned and smiled. "Yes, yes. My only girl. The love of my life. The only woman I want in my world."

She playfully slapped his arm. "Smartass."

"Seriously, though, Princess. Are you sure you won't be there?"

She shook her head and gave a beaming grin. "Keyop and I are playing with Jill's band tonight and tomorrow. We need to practice."

"Oh," he said jokingly. "And I suppose you'll expect me to be there to give you support…"

"If you want."

"Tit for tat," he teased.

She pulled away from him and flicked her hip in a slinky manner. "Well you'll just cramp my style, anyway. How can I flirt and tease and play with the guys if I have the Eagle glaring over them?"

He growled and drew her to him with his hands at her waist to pull her hips against his. "I protect what's mine. I'll mark my territory if I have to."

She giggled and rubbed at her neck, where he'd marked her a little over a week ago. The bruise had disappeared, and she didn't fancy receiving another. "Down, tiger, down."

Her use of the word "tiger" made him shudder almost painfully. He didn't want Princess to start using that term of endearment when Melissa was so prone to doing do. "Eagle," he corrected. "I eat tigers for lunch."

"There is a line there that I really don't want to touch because there's a woman present," Cronus' voice chuckled from beside them.

Princess reddened in embarrassment. Mark moaned.

"Perfect timing, Sir."

Cronus gave Princess a lazy two-fingered salute and wink as greeting then narrowed his gaze at his son. "You ready, Mark? The Press Room is overflowing and the crowd is getting tense."

He sighed and nodded as he motioned to give Princess a kiss on the cheek, only to be hampered by his visor. He rolled his eyes and tapped the glass. "I'd kiss you, but…"

Princess smiled and leaned up to kiss his jawline. "It's okay."

Cronus waved his fingers to Mark to indicate that he follow. With a sigh, the Eagle did as requested, touching Princess' cheek in a goodbye gesture.

"See you tonight, Princess."

Cronus chewed on his cheek as he led Mark away from the computer room. When sure he had the two of them outside of earshot from Princess, he began a line of questioning he was more than uncomfortable with.

"Mark, I've heard a few things since my return that has me concerned."

Mark pulled his wings together in the middle and clicked out of the side of his mouth before answering. "From your Rangers I suppose."

Cronus nodded. "Is it true?"

"I'm honestly not sure, Sir."

"How can you not know?"

He sighed. "A bottle of Canadian Club and five full-doses of methylamphetamine…"

"Ecstasy?"

"Yes."

Cronus shook his head. "I assume you didn't take it yourself."

Mark raised his eyes to his father in annoyance. "Give me a little credit."

"So you were inebriated and stoned, and you don't remember a damn thing?"

"Something like that."

Cronus shook his head and paused to stop them both in the hallway. He looked both ways to ensure they were alone. "Do you think you did anything with her?"

He shrugged. "Well I woke up naked beside her, so I assume so."

"Not always the case, Son. Women can be sneaky creatures." He leaned a hand on the wall beside him and tapped at his chin with the other. "Only you know how you wake up after a night of sex, did you feel the same?"

Mark groaned and shrugged. "Do we really need to have this conversation?"

"Yes. Because there is more at stake here than Princess getting upset about you sleeping with another woman."

"What's that?"

Cronus repeated his question. "Do you honestly believe you did anything with her?"

Mark thought for a second then shook his head. "I honestly believe I didn't. But that isn't going to help me if Princess hears the rumours and questions me about it." He frowned and titled his head in question at Cronus. "What more could be at stake than Princess finding out?"

Cronus' fingers drummed against the wall and he looked everywhere but his son. "Because her mother did the same to me. Only she did it with the express purpose of getting pregnant."

Mark coughed. "You slept with her mom?"

"She got me drunk, Mark. She got me drunk, seduced me, and tried to pin the pregnancy on me."

Mark blanched. "You're not trying to tell me that … that she's my … that I possibly slept with …" He could barely get the words out. "With my sister?"

"Half sister, and it's unverified."

"And you think she wants to get pregnant?"

Cronus shrugged.

Mark suddenly felt ill. "Oh, God."

"You alright?"

He shook his head. "I think I'm going to be sick."

Cronus patted him on the shoulder. "I'll look in to it, Mark. For now, just play it safe, okay?"

"Play what safe, Sir? That one night could have screwed up my entire life! I've screwed my sister, could have gotten her pregnant, and a hairs breath away from being Swan fodder." He groaned and slumped against the wall beside his father. "I may as well go and hand myself over to Zoltar."

"Chin up, Mark. Until we get confirmation, I can put a gag on my men."

"If it isn't already too late, I'd appreciate that."

Cronus pushed himself out of his slouch and slapped Mark's shoulder. "We'll work something out. Just make sure you pretend everything is status quo."

"Easier said than done." He pulled himself off the wall and smoothed down his uniform. "Hell of a way to find out I have a sister, isn't it."

Cronus shrugged and pointed at the door, where the PR officer was frantically waving for the Eagle's attention. "It could be worse."

Mark slid his eyes to Cronus and grunted. "I can't possibly see how."

He smirked as he walked beside Mark to the Press Room. "I could have told you Princess was your sister."


	18. Chapter 18

Princess ran one hand through her hair as she sang into her hairbrush in the main washroom facility at Centre Neptune. Life couldn't be much better for the young G-Forcer; she was packing up her things to move in with Mark at his shack, had just been given a prestigious award from the Federation for her selfless rescue of Colonel Cronus, was cemented firmly in the music scene with Keyop in a band that played at Jill's diner at least twice a week and had been voted the sexiest woman alive by People magazine.

Sports Illustrated had even requested that she do a photo shoot for their swimsuit edition – Of course the Federation insisted that she remain hidden behind a Swan's visor, which had seen the offer withdrawn.

Best of all, she hadn't heard hair nor hide of Melissa for at least two weeks since her return from her mission. It was as if Kharma finally recognized her and her goodness to mankind and gave her the luck and the life she deserved.

And she couldn't have been happier!

Well, unless Mark proposed to her … and, although their relationship was stronger and more loving than ever, that was not going to happen any time soon.

She smiled at her reflection as she sang. Her cheeks were flushed and rosy, her body was tight, yet more feminine than she'd ever felt, even her small little breasts, their size of which was the bane of her existence, seemed more rounded and proud. Love could be a wonderful thing.

She toyed with one of the feathery curls in her hair and spun in front of the mirror as she sang proudly in to her hairbrush.

Gosh, she felt great.

Last week she and Jill had gone to the local tattoo parlor with the intention of getting each other's belly-buttons pierced. Driven by the buzz of a Tim Horton's coffee, they ended up with small tattoos on their hips as well as a bright, shining belly button piercing she knew would drive Mark mad.

It wasn't the piercing that did it, though. It was the petite image of a golden eagle with the fire-red G-1 flaming symbol with it, that sent him into a frenzy. He'd not needed to mark his territory, she'd done it for him. The mere thought that she'd proclaim herself to him in such a permanent manner had him snarling and panting after her in a manner she'd never seen.

It was fun.

She finished her acoustic rendition of Cheap Trick's "If You Want my Love" and purred as she admired herself in the mirror.

"Damn," she breathed as she posed from side to side for a closer inspection of Jill's choice of attire for the evening. "I look so awsome."

Jill had bothered her for a few days about finally dressing the part when on stage. After receiving a monetary gift from the Federation as part of her reward, Jill had dragged her out to the local mall to buy clothing that was far more appealing and sexy than a pair of pink and white striped pants and a number three t-shirt.

Princess had reluctantly agreed and spent a small fortune on clothing for she and Keyop, as well as a lacy gift for her beau that she would show him once this night was done.

Out of the seven outfits Jill had meticulously created for her, she'd chosen a skirt ensemble. The skirt was a short, red plaid kilt whose hem kissed the very highest part of her thigh. It sat low on her hips. Low enough to show off her tattoo, but not low enough that she could be embarrassed by the waist-band of her panties. Her black top cropped just shy of her navel, so that the piercing, that matched a delicate silver chain she wore around her hips, became the center-piece of the outfit. It was snug in the breast area, but hung loosely around her abs. Jill had convinced Princess to wear black leather knee high boots that laced in the front and had a high, stacked heel. Peeking over the top, and ending just below the hem of her skirt was a pair of opaque black sit-up tights that had a red in-set embellishment down the outer side.

She tied her hair back into a pony tail. The ends lightly kissed at the bare skin between the back of her skirt and shirt. After applying a little more make-up than she was used to, she truly looked like the member of a band.

Innocence with rocker-chick; she loved it. So did Jason, who purred long and low as she passed him on leaving the bathroom to retrieve her bike from the Phoenix's dry dock hangar.

"Damn," he purred as he circled her a couple of times, making sure to obviously look her up and down. "Has Mark seen this look yet?"

Andrew, who was on base after escorting Cronus to Centre Neptune for an official visit, chuckled. "I think her presence here, now, tells us he hasn't."

Jason laughed and nodded his head knowingly. "Yeah, you're right. He'd have her locked in their room for the next three weeks if he saw this outfit."

Andrew laughed with him. "How long do you think he'd last if he saw her like this?"

"About fifteen seconds."

"I thought the Eagle had a better reaction time than that."

"Okay, fifteen nano-seconds."

Princess blushed, thankful for the compliment, but disgusted at them discussing her sex-life. "That's sick."

"Ahh," Jason practically sang, "but so true."

"Mark is not like that," she responded with an upward tilt of the head and feminine sniff. "And if he did have the raging hormones that you two do, then I'd estimate that he'd actually have the self-control to hold out at least two hours … if not more."

Jason raised a brow. "Why? Because he's a gentleman?"

Andrew scoffed beside Jason. Princess let a cheeky grin glint off her glossy lips. "Because I'd make him."

Andrew managed to choke on his inhale of his cigarette mid-laugh at her sassy comment. Jason was far more careful. He held the white stick in between his index and middle finger, and pointed at her. "So are you dressed like that for a reason, Prin?"

"Not to let you guys think trashy thoughts, that's for sure," she responded almost distractedly as she punched in her code to open the hangar doors.

"We're men, P," Andrew chuckled. "We can make trash talk out of anything."

The comment made her smile and she looked over her shoulder at him. "That would make you bitches, then, Andrew. Not men."

Andrew coughed and looked to Jason for support. "Back me up, man."

Jason smirked and raised both hands to indicate he wanted to stay out of it. "You're on your own, Drew, and she has a point."

He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. "Are you calling me a Bitch?"

"Well you do have your nagging, feminine qualities." He struck a feminine pose and let his wrist hang limply in an implication the Ranger was gay and made a kiss-kiss sound.

Andrew gasped and cast a glance at Princess. He raised his finger to politely ask her to give him a minute. "Excuse me, P, but Jason's begging for me to kick his ass."

Princess' brows raised, but she smiled and stepped through the doorway. "Actually, Andrew, I think he's more asking you to kiss his ass."

"Yeah, and he's implying I'm gay…"

She didn't respond in any manner and walked into the hanger chuckling as she heard the sounds of a playful scuffle behind her.

For the most part, she loved the Rangers pilots. Andrew, Shinji and Masaki were definitely her favourites. Sure, they were driven by hormones and dirty thoughts, but they were rarely disrespectful. When she hung out with them after a mission or during downtime when the teams could get together they had a lot of fun. They treated her like one of the guys, but had the respect to draw the line when necessary.

Anson and Alex were the two pilots that disgusted her. They were controlled well enough before Cronus' abduction, but during his absence had turned into creatures that she could barely put into a homo-sapien category. They were lower than pigs and filthier than cockroaches. They had the cunning and tenacity of sewer rats and the mentality of amoebas.

She couldn't hate Zoltar with the intensity she did those two men.

Fortunately, after Mark's intervention to Anson's disgusting behaviour in the computer room, she hadn't had the occasion to have to share the same air with him.

She knew it had to end at some point.

Sadly, it was today, when she was out of Mark's sight and wearing a costume she knew would start him off.

She was alerted to his presence by a wolf whistle from the G-1, where Melissa was obviously handling some maintenance.

"Woah, Swannie," he called from a ratty metal fold-up chair beside the grease encrusted Melissa. "Britney ain't got nothing on you, girl."

She didn't even offer him a grunt as she raised her nose and strode past toward the Phoenix. As if to exaggerate her ignoring him, she raised her wrist to her lips to speak a code into her communicator to release her bike.

"Taking up stripping, Princess?" He commented more as a statement than a question. "I'll give you a buck for a lap-dance."

Still she ignored him. Try as she might, however, she couldn't contain the slow closing of the eyes that told him she was insulted.

He kept it up. "How about I just put you across my knee like a little school girl and I paddle your ass for being a bad girl?"

Princess' eye twitched as her body gave a shudder. She simply couldn't understand why Cronus kept this guy on the team. She continued to ignore as she watched the ramp from the left floater lower with her bike.

Anson pushed it a little more. "Come on, girl. Come sit on my knee and we'll discuss the first thing that rises."

She had to groan at that remark. Rather than actually looking at him to talk, she muttered under her breath. "Asshole."

While it was tempting to notify Jason out in the corridor that she was being hassled by a Ranger, or even communicating the same to Cronus, she continued to play the ignorance game. The ramp crunched against the concrete as it hit the ground. She slowly stepped up onto it and pressed a release button on the fuel tank of her bike to remove the clamps. They made a loud grinding sound as they released the bike and opened enough for her to walk it backward off the ramp.

Anson was becoming somewhat irritated that Princess was unwilling to take the bait and enter into a war of words with him. He loved nothing more than to press her buttons and irritate her. Much like a pre-pubescent boy with a crush on a classmate, he attacked her to get her attention. When she wasn't willing to give him her attention, he had to change tactics.

As she kicked the stand of the bike and crouched so that she could check the fuel level and general state of her vehicle, he approached her. She caught the movement out of the corner of her eye. She kept her eye on his reflection on the fuel tank.

"It would show some intelligence if you kept your distance, Airman," she warned flatly as he drew closer.

He set one hand on the rear of the bike and leaned heavily on it. "So where are you going?"

"That's none of your business," her eyes flew to his hand. "And take your hand of my bike."

He pursed his lips in a mock frightened manner as he exaggerated the movement of taking his hand from the bike. "Or what, you'll beat me? Come on, Swannie, I dare you. I'd enjoy it."

Princess' lip curled and she couldn't contain the grunt of irritation. "Just leave me alone, okay? I really don't need to have to put up with this crap."

"Then spend a night with me. I'll leave you alone after that."

"Of course you would," she responded flatly. "Just let me go check with my boyfriend that it's okay. I'm sure he'll totally agree that me sleeping with you is the best thing for all of us."

"Hey," he grinned, his voice full of mischief. "It's not like he can say no, now."

Her eyes rose slowly. "Yeah, he can."

"But that would make him a hypocrite, wouldn't it?"

She quickly raised herself to a stand and wished she could follow through with her mind's desire to punch Anson in the crotch to shut him up. "Whatever."

"I'm just sayin'," he smirked. "That if he can sleep with one of ours, we should be allowed to sleep with his."

"I'm not even going to pretend I have any clue about what you're alluding to."

He leaned in close to hoarsely whisper against her ear. "Then ask Melissa all about it."

She stiffened, her eyes widening in shock. "Don't play that game," she said softly in warning.

"I'm not playing," he purred, jutting his chin in Melissa's direction. "Ask her."

She couldn't move.

"Go on. Find out all about how faithful he is."

Princess spluttered and shook her head quickly. "No. You're just playing games with me." She quickly took a couple of steps away from him. "I have to go. I … uh … have some …" She turned and quickly walked toward the hangar exit.

Anson smirked and let his eyes flash at Melissa. The Bleach-blonde aircraft tech gave a smile as she wiped her hands on a towel.

"Hey, Princess," she called with innocence tinged with urgency in her voice.

Princess skidded to a stop and looked over her shoulder at her. "What, Melissa. I'm really very busy right now."

Melissa jogged up to her and breathlessly touched her hand to her forearm. "We need to have a chat."

Princess shook her head. "No … Uh … not right now."

She was insistent. "Yeah, right now. It's about Mark…"

Princess had to raise her head to the heavens to ask her deity just what she had done wrong within the last twenty minutes to incur their wrath. Things had been going so well! With a reluctant sigh, she lowered her head to Melissa and offered her the best "pissed-off-Swan" look she could offer.

"What do you want, Melissa. I am in a hurry here."

Melissa could read the panic in Princess' tone. It was as if she already knew what she was going to tell her.

She looked around as if checking they were alone and lowered her voice. "Here is probably not a good place."

Princess sighed heavily, "Here is as good a place as any, Melissa, so just spill it and be done with it."

"Well. I want to start off by saying how incredibly bad I feel about it."

Princess could feel her heart begin to hammer against her ribcage. "About what?"

Melissa seemed to search her mind for the most appropriate way to say what she had to. A couple of times she opened and closed her mouth to speak. Finally she found her voice. "I know this all started just as a game. You know, a competition to see who was the better woman." He eyes slowly flashed at Princess, having been anywhere but on her for the previous part of the admission. As quickly as they were on her, they were back on the floor. "I honestly didn't think you and he were all that serious…"

"How could you," Princess breathed softly, "he spent the better part of our relationship denying it."

Melissa nodded. "Yeah, well. The boys kind of dared me, you know … to."

Princess sighed to tell Melissa she understood what the dare was. "Go on."

"Anyway," Melissa continued. "I really didn't know how tight you two were. Not until you brought home his dad."

Princess was sure that her whole body visibly thumped with the pounding of her heart. "So you're apologizing for trying to make a move on Mark?"

Melissa shuffled her feet and screwed up her face. "I only wish, Princess."

Princess' breath caught, but she said nothing.

So Melissa continued. "When you left for the mission and Mark came out with us …."

Princess couldn't stop her hand rising to her mouth as her eyes glossed with tears. "Uhuh?"

"Well. Damn, if I'd known, Princess. If I thought for one minute that you loved him as much as you do then…I wouldn't have."

"Stop beating around the bush, Melissa," Princess hissed. "Just spill it already."

"I slept with Mark," she sputtered as quickly as possible. She watched Princess almost gag a sob and took both her hands in hers. "I'm so sorry, Princess. I didn't realize…"

Princess shook her head and stepped backward from Melissa. "No. You're lying."

"Princess, it's true. He took me to the shack and we had sex."

"No. I don't believe you," Princess gasped. "He wouldn't do that."

"Yes he did, Princess." She pulled her cell phone off her belt and thumbed through the pictures.

"What are you doing?" She demanded, terrified about what she was about to be shown.

Melissa stepped close to her and handed her the phone. On the main display was a self-taken photograph of Mark with his mouth on Melissa's neck. While the photograph was only from their shoulders up, Princess recognized the room as being Mark's.

"That was taken the night you left for the mission," Melissa clarified. "We both got drunk and…"

Princess looked up from the picture. Her eyes were already swollen and red even though the tears were still safely held inside her lashes. "Why are you doing this? Why did you have to tell me this?"

Melissa seemed shocked. "I thought you'd want to know what kind of person he is, Princess. If he's doing this with me, then whose to say he isn't with other girls?"

"No. I can't believe this…"

There seemed to be a hidden smile behind her eyes. "Rumours have to start somewhere, Princess. Why do you think there is so much out there about his stamina, his size, his aggression and passion?"

Princess hiccupped and let her eyes fall on the picture again. There was no way this image was doctored in any way, it had to be true.

"It pains me to think that while you were out there, risking your life for him, that he was with me."

The tears finally began to spill onto Princess' cheeks. "I just can't …"

Melissa seemed to attempt to console her. "Take heart, though, Prin. When he was with me, it was you he was thinking of. I mean, this … it was just sex."

"Just sex?" Princess asked incredulously. "Just sex?"

"He loves you, Princess. That's obvious. The other girls – me – we're just some tail that mean nothing."

"Oh God," Princess choked, swaying a little as if dizzy.

"He's a man, Princess. All men are unfaithful dogs."

Princess' eyes shot up to Melissa. There was complete shock in her eyes. "What?"

Melissa shrugged. "Men, that's what. They're incapable of monogamy. It's not you, it's them." She took the phone back from Princess. "You know what? Just forget I said anything. Ignore me, okay?"

Princess staggered backward. "No. I can't do that …"

"I'm sorry you had to find out like this, but it's better you know now than years down the line when you have kids and a marriage and a mortgage."

That was enough for the Swan. Princess finally let her first sob loudly escape her throat. She turned and ran from the hanger.

Melissa watched her run and immediately changed her demeanour from sympathetic and remorseful to relaxed and arrogant. She felt Anson's presence beside her and smiled. "Wow. That went better than I thought it would."

"Yeah," he smirked. "Damn. I wish I was a fly on the wall when she confronts Mark about this."

"Do you think she will?"

"Once she stops crying she might. Eventually she'll have to get pissed off about it."

She nodded and bit on her lip. "You know Cronus is going to be pissed when he finds out you broke the gag order on this."

Anson shrugged. "He shouldn't have fired me, then." He threaded his arm across her shoulder. "You'd better watch your job, too, girl."

She smiled deviously. "Why, because the Eagle was a horn dog and shagged me?"

"Well, he didn't exactly shag you, Mel."

She shrugged. "He would have if he didn't pass out like a pussy."

"Are you sure about that?"

She turned on her heel and dipped a shoulder to look coyly at him. "Probably not, but who cares? Eventually he will."

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Jason had Andrew in a head lock when Princess ran past him. The sound and sight of her upset and crying made him drop the Ranger pilot to the ground.

"What the Hell?.."

Andrew hit the ground with a thud. He rolled on to his back and looked at her retreating form. "What happened to Princess?"

Jason started a light jog after her. "You find out in there, Drew. I'll go after her." As he finished his instruction, his jog sped to a fast run. He caught up with her at the end of the hall, where she stopped and seemed completely lost.

"Princess, you okay?"

She spun on her heel to look at him. Her expression was defensive, as if she didn't know, or expect the person behind her. After a second her face fell in to recognition. "Jase, it's you."

He nodded and made sure to stay a safe distance away from her - she looked a little unstable. "Are you okay, Princess?"

She gave a fake laugh and nodded through her tears. "Of course I am," she replied sarcastically. "I just found out the man I love is a dog who will apparently screw anything with tits … no biggie."

Jason all but groaned. "Who said what to you, Prin?"

She cried as she talked, but tried to make it look as though she really didn't care anymore. "Who else? Melissa, Anson…"

Jason raised his hands in a "slow down" manner. "Come on, hon. now you know those two. They're all full of it. I wouldn't believe a word they say."

She laughed, and cried at the same time. "They had photo evidence, Jason."

"What?"

"God, he was all over her. All over her …" The admission broke her down again. "I can't believe he did this to me."

"There has to be an explanation, Princess." He tried to step toward her. "Talk to Mark, give him a chance to defend himself before you get upset."

"Before I get upset?" She asked incredulously. "Before?! Too late, Jase. I'm already there."

"Come on, Prin," he pleaded. "You know as well as I do that Mark just isn't like that."

"Are you hearing me?" she asked in frustration. "I said they had proof."

"It's easy to doctor photographs, Princess. I do it all the time to various assholes around here who piss me off."

She went totally silent. Her eyes seemed to drill into his head as she stared at him in total disbelief. She was accusing him of sticking up for Mark; that much he could read loud and clear.

"Come on. I'm not sticking up for him or anything. I'm just saying that there has to be an explanation for this."

"Yeah," she huffed. "I'm not a walking piece of meat with the right orifices or appendages to appease him."

Jason was confused. "What? Do you even know what you are saying?"

"Yeah," she growled as the anger finally began to sink in. "I don't have huge tits, a huge set of hips and the desire to join the mile-high club while I take photographs of it."

Jason's brow rose slowly up his forehead. "Huh?"

"Porn," she shuddered. "It sickens me."

Jason pursed his lips in total confusion. "Porn? What has all this got to do with porn?" He hiccupped and felt the need to defend a man's greatest need in life. "And there is nothing wrong with it, I might add. It is a necessary part of any man's life."

"A man shouldn't need it. If he is getting exactly what he needs whenever he needs it from the woman he claims to love, then he doesn't need it."

He let out the shortest of laughs and dropped his forehead into his palm. "Only a woman could say that."

"Excuse me?"

He ran his hand heavily down his face and raised his head to look at her again. "Nothing."

She slumped her back against the wall. "What's wrong with me, Jase?"

He looked much like he was being set for a trap. Carefully he answered her question. "Absolutely nothing, Princess. There is nothing wrong with you."

"Then why did he do it?"

"Uh…"

"Why did he just run off and do that then?"

Jason sighed. "Maybe that's something you need to ask him."

She suddenly stomped her foot into the ground and clenched her fists at her sides in a classical tantrum act. "I wasn't even gone for five hours. Does he have such little control over his own libido that he can't go five hours without sex?"

It was tempting for Jason to joke about how a man would and should be at it 24/7, but wisely settled for a shrug. "I don't know, Princess. Maybe he was drunk, or drugged, or something…"

He tantrum stance folded to a long and resigned sigh. "So when I was inside a Spectran base, fighting off a bunch of filthy creatures who were pawing and breathing all over me, he was doing the same to Melissa."

His brow creased. "They did that to you, Prin? Those Spectran bastards tried to attack you like that?"

She ignored the question and continued with her current rant. "Totally opposite ends of the spectrum, a simultaneous pair of actions identical only in the animalistic ritual of sexual intercourse …."

"You're babbling," he suggested as he took her by the shoulders and gently pulled her into his chest. "Maybe you should go and lie down or something."

"That's not going to change any of this, Jason."

"It might make you feel better."

She shrugged out of his hold. "Or it might give me more time to think about the bad things I can do to him…"

He actually chewed at a smile on his lip. "That's something I just might be able to help with."

"Or…"

He didn't like the way she let that hang in the air. "Or what?"

"I could always do to him what he did to me …"

This time Jason did laugh. "Okay, that's cute. You are incapable of doing something like that. We both know it."

"I would be capable if it was with you."

He froze – she did not just say that. "Uh. I'd be very careful about saying things like that, Princess."

"Why?"

He shook his head and raised his hand to tell her to stop. "What you need to do is talk to him."

"No," she breathed softly. "I need to hurt him."

"Not like this."

She rolled her hip to slouch arrogantly to one side. Her arms folded against her chest tightly. "You're always the one proclaiming that Revenge is the greatest dish, and tit for tat we should pay back."

"And you think sleeping with me is pay back?"

She smiled. "Pay back with interest."

He could see a small flame of anger flickering in her eye.

Damn, she was serious.

"Princess," he groaned, unable to believe he was about to say this. "As tempting as your offer is … and it is very, very tempting … The repercussions for all of us would just be …" he paused looking for the best way to finish a sentence he shouldn't have even begun. "It would be … uh…" he looked honestly into her face. "It would just fuck everything up, Princess."

"So…"

"It's cruel to you, me and Mark to start playing games like that."

"He started it," she huffed.

"Then you end it, Princess," he ordered, not quite realizing the double-meaning his order held.

A glint returned to her eye. "You're right."

He seemed shocked. "I am?"

She rolled onto her toes to kiss his cheek. "I'll be the bigger one. I'll end it."

"That's my girl." He ran his hand over her hair. "So you'll talk to him. Get it all out in the open?"

"I'll do what needs to be done, Jason."

He wasn't totally sure about this. She seemed awfully calmed now. There was no anger, no sadness, no real emotion. It was as if she'd never even heard the news when he saw her smile coyly at him. "Are you sure you're okay, Prin?"

She nodded and leaned back against the wall. "You should be a shrink, Jase. You make it all…" she paused to take a long breath. "…so clear. I know what I need to do and how to do it."

Okay, he was officially concerned now. She was ensuring each of her responses were non-committal, that they were open to interpretation.

Damn, she was pulling his own tricks against him.

"As long as you're sure."

She drew her yo-yo from the waistband of her skirt and chewed innocently against her cheek as she let it fall and rise from her finger. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

He watched her and her eyes watching her weapon. There was no real indication that she had any intention to use it beyond its original design. Kind of like a cigarette to him, her weapon to her was a vice. When she needed to think, or was bored, she'd play with it as a child would.

He lightly tapped her on the shoulder and kissed her cheek. "If you need to talk or have a drink or anything that doesn't pertain to you and me getting ugly under the sheets, then call me."

Her eyes rose and glistened with mischief. "I just may hold you to that a little later."

Slowly he pulled away and wandered back down the hallway toward the Hangar.

She watched him leave with pursed lips and a tilted head. As usual, one of the boys was her voice of reason when she was close to hysterics. And he was right, of course; playing childish games of tit for tat was too juvenile even for her. There was only one thing left to do…

She watched in the distance as Andrew and Jason dragged Melissa and Anson out of the hangar, obviously toward the main security office. Her eyes slowly slid toward the open door of the hangar.

A smile spread across her face as her yo-yo rolled up and down its string.

Okay, maybe two things….


	19. Chapter 19

There is a good chunk of this taken out … why? Because it was down and dirty smut … and I didn't think y'all wanted to read anything like that … It doesn't damage the remainder of the chapter, and I made changes to any references to it throughout ….. so don't get scared and think I'm going all page 3 on you 

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Princess was in a much different mood as she lightly strolled down the Administrative wing of Centre Neptune toward Mark's office. Her smile had returned, as had her flirtatiousness. She made sure to giggle and sigh at the whistles from the construction team remodeling the washrooms, and coyly blinked and nodded greetings to everyone she passed.

She even laughed with Keyop, who ran past her, wearing his new black leather pants, AC/DC vintage T-shirt and a bandana on his head. He was excited about tonight's performance and pushed her to hurry up so they could leave.

She asked for him to either give her an hour to finish some stuff, or to leave by himself.

He chose the latter and waved a drumstick at her as he brooped about having to wait for girls to look all pretty, and how he was never going to get a girlfriend.

Ever.

In time he'd change his mind, of course. He'd be chasing every girl on the face of the earth within a couple of years…

She was still thinking about it when she walked up to the desk of Mark's secretary. She pressed a palm onto the edge of the desk and smiled.

"Hi, Cyn. Is he in?"

Cynthia let her eyes train up and down Princess' modern-day school-girl kilt and Britney Spear's inspired shirt. The twinkle of a navel-gem and red glow of a still-new tattoo made the older woman shake her head in disappointment. "He's been locked in there for at least a couple of hours, Princess."

"Alone, I hope," she giggled, perhaps a little unsurely.

Cynthia nodded. "There's some admin crisis that has him in a bit of a tizzy. He doesn't want to be interrupted."

"That includes me?" She made sure to be as sickly sweet as possible when she said that.

The obvious display of mock-innocence made Cynthia chuckle. "Go on in, Princess. Maybe you can stop him swearing and yelling at himself in there. If I hear one more demand for coffee I'll throw it at him."

She turned and giggled over her shoulder at her. "I'll see what I can do."

She carefully opened the door to Mark's office and popped her head in. The sight of him leaning over his desk, with a pencil behind his ear, trying to decipher a desktop strewn with papers, made her chuckle.

She lightly knocked on the door as she stood half in, half out of the room.

He didn't look backward. "I'm busy, come back later."

She pursed her lips and slid inside the office. She closed the door by walking backward against it. The click of the lock resounded loudly toward him.

He grunted and sighed as he pushed aside on paper to look at what was underneath it. "One of these days," he hissed to himself under his breath, "I'll force Jason to chronicle and log and … damn, what does this even say?.."

Princess' lips pursed as she juggled a small, black bundle in her hand. She bit at her lip in anticipation at his reaction when she stepped out of herself to make him … crazy. Before she could second-guess the idea, she took a breath and under-arm threw the bundle onto the desk in front of him.

He didn't jerk or jump in surprise of fear at something foreign being launched that close to his head. He held his breath, however, as the bundle unfolded to reveal a very delicate and lacey pair of thong panties.

"Good God," he breathed as his fingers moved forward to trace the pattern of the lace.

"Don't tell me you're too busy, Commander," she purred as she relaxed as seductively as she could against the door. "I'm a girl in need."

He exhaled moan of surprise and disappointed lust and turned to deny her. "I'm so sorry…." His breath caught when he saw her. "Princess…" he let the end of her name trail into a staggered breath.

She bit at her lip and traced her finger along her collarbone. "Don't tell me you expect me to take matters in to my own hands."

He gulped as he watched her fingers trail over the soft fabric of her shirt to circle around her nipple, that had hardened enough to show through a padded bra and shirt. "Take … uh …what?"

She closed her eyes and chewed on the tip of her pinky finger as she let her hand fall to draw a line down the front of her skirt top her thigh. "I just … I have such a deep, throbbing need for …" she sighed deeply as she found herself. "I need to be touched, Mark."

He gulped again. This was not the woman he was used to. She was never so forward and upfront about this kind of thing.

It was the hottest thing he had ever seen.

******

SNIP! I had to omit this part …

******

With a thrust that could well have propelled his entire body through her, and a yell that nearly shattered the window, he finally gave in to the ecstasy that Princess had denied him only moments earlier with a quick nip of her teeth.

He pulled her hips against his and held her in place as he experienced his own rippling convulsions.

The waves began to ebb and he pulled his prize to a stand. He held her around the waist and buried his face in her neck as he finialized his conquest with small and controlled rocks of his hips to let as much of himself spill into her as possible.

Princess' breaths were high pitched and quick as she finally regained her senses. Mark was still barely inside her, and his face buried in her neck as he quietly and honestly proclaimed his love for her. She turned in his arms and fought her own emotions as she finally rewarded him with a long and soft kiss on the mouth.

"Where," he panted as he searched her face for answers, "where did that come from?"

She sighed and slowly drew away from him. "I just wanted to be what you wanted for once."

He frowned as he watched her adjust her skirt and search the table-top for her panties. "But you've always been what I wanted, Princess."

He laughed doubtfully in response, but said nothing as she found her bounty and slowly stepped into them.

"You don't believe me?"

She pulled her panties up and turned to watch him pull up his jeans. She almost had to laugh at the sight of him. He was disheveled and sweaty, his shirt all creased and stretched in way she knew would never be repaired.

When she didn't answer, he stepped toward her and set his hands on her hips. "Are you okay, Princess?"

Her eyes flicked to look into each of his. She settled on looking at his lips and nodded slowly. "I'm fine, Mark."

He breathed a soft exhale. "Why don't I believe that?"

She hooked her hair over her ear and shrugged. "Don't you trust me?"

He smiled and drew her into his arms. "Of course I do, Princess. I am just not used to seeing this side of you."

"Did you like it?"

He nodded in a dopey manner. "Oh yes, Princess. That was … incredible."

She pulled away and wiped at her brow. "I'd better let you get back to it, Commander.'

He groaned and sat back on the table, watching as she walked to the doorway. "Will I see you tonight?"

She spoke over her shoulder. "I'll be at Jill's."

He sighed and watched as she opened the door to leave. "I love you," he called after her, wondering if it might make her smile.

It did, but it wasn't a sincere one. She turned to him and peered around the door to respond. "I know."

She closed the door behind her and was immediately aware of the fact that there were two people in the reception area who were staring at her with wide eyes and gaping mouths. She reddened and lowered her head sheepishly.

"Oh, dear…"

Cynthia gave a smirk. Anderson's assistant, who was much younger and much more demure, and had only visited because she needed staples, seemed horrified.

It was Cynthia who opened Mark's appointment book. "So, do I pencil you in for another appointment, Princess?"

Princess coughed embarrassedly and shuffled her feet on the floor. "Uh, actually." She dropped an envelope on the desk in front of her and sat her yo-yo and bracelet beside it. "Can you make sure he gets these please?"

Cynthia and Anderson's assistant looked at the thin yellow envelope with wide and horrified eyes. On the front of the envelope were the words: Letter of Resignation.

She was obviously shattered as she shakily extended her hand to the only other woman in life that Mark ever relied upon. "It's been great, Cyn. I'll miss you."

"Does he know?"

Princess shook her head. "No, not yet."

She pointed to the door. "And that?"

Princess tried to hold in her sob. "I wanted to say goodbye."

Anderson's assistant tilted her head. "Does the Chief know?"

Princess shook her head. "He will once Mark tells him."

Cynthia stood from her desk and walked around to try and force her to stay so she could get Princess to hand Mark the letter herself. "What happened, Prin?"

Princess shook her head and made a quick move toward the exit of the wing. "I've got to go."

"He's going to want to know why, Princess."

She sighed and turned around to face both women. "Because I refuse to follow any more orders from a man who lies, cheats and uses women."

Cynthia gasped as Princess exited the room, and G-Force, with those last words. Without hesitation, she burst through Mark's door. "Commander!.."

Mark was slumped in his chair with his head on the desk when Cynthia burst in the door. He didn't raise his head, although he knew without a doubt it was her. Her panicked cry of his rank gave him a shudder, but he didn't flinch.

"Cyn," he mumbled with his mouth buried on a variance report he hadn't yet attempted to read. "I'm sorry I've been such an asshole today. As penance for my being a bastard, I say you should take the rest of the day off."

The offer made her pause and take a second to consider. "Uh…" She noticed his disheveled and rough look. "Are you okay?"

"I've never been better." He raised his head and gave her a lazy smile. "I swear I'm going to make that woman my wife … Sooner rather than later."

Cynthia shuddered and stuttered, hoping for him that it was just lust talking. "Um.."

He slid his hand down his face and slowly drew himself to a stand. "Let's both finish for the day. This stuff can wait until tomorrow."

She screwed up her face and shook her head. "As much as I would love to go home, Commander, we have something I think you need to see to right away."

"Can it wait until tomorrow?"

She shook her head and winced as she extended her arm with the letter. "No, Mark. It can't."

Mark's eyes widened at the typed title on the envelope. His head raised quickly to her. "Oh no, Cyn, You can't leave me." He took the letter and put his hand on her shoulder. "I will give you whatever you ask, just don't leave."

She sighed and shook her head. "It's not my resignation."

His brows furrowed and he slipped his finger under the flap to gently tear it open. "Then whose?"

"Princess."

His head jerked up and eyes widened in shock. "What?"

She nodded and handed across her weapon and bracelet. "She just left that for me to give to you."

He looked beyond her to the doorway, where Anderson's assistant stood peering in to the office. "This is a joke, right?"

Cynthia shook her head.

He looked around his office with a frown. Hadn't he and Princess just made the most incredible love only a few minutes ago?

"When did she leave this? Before or after she saw me?"

"After."

He shook his head. "No, there has to be a mistake." He opened the letter and pulled out a neatly folded pink piece of stationary. His hand shot to his mouth as he read her letter:

_Commander:_

_It's with somewhat of a heavy heart that I am submitting my written notice of resignation from G-Force effective immediately._

_This decision was not made easily. I've spent my entire life training for this role; I know no other life except this. I have unwaveringly followed orders from a man I truly admired and believed in. However current events and incidents have been brought to my attention that has forced me to reevaluate my role and my trust in you. I feel I am unable to honestly and in true faith follow any future orders you give, and therefore, must step down from active duty by your side._

_I expect that my transition from Swan to civilian will be extremely difficult, so with this in mind I ask that you not initiate any contact with me during or after this transitional period. As is my understanding, leaving the team also means that I leave my friends and family behind. I cannot bear to say goodbye to the rest of the team, so I ask that you offer them my final farewells and wish them every success and happiness for the future._

_We've all been through so much together, and I have learned a great deal from all of you that extends beyond my technical role in the team. You have all taught me about myself and about the finicky nature of the world around us._

_I thank you for everything, Mark. I wish you the best, and will love you with all of my being for the rest of my life. As hard as it is to walk away, to stay by your side amidst lies and deceit is much, much more difficult._

_Goodbye, Mark. _

_Cassandra "Princess" Anderson_

He coughed in total disbelief as he finished the letter. "No," he breathed, "This can't be happening."

Cynthia pouted and let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. "What happened, Mark?"

Mark answered her with a lost look. His mind completely understood what she wrote, and the accusation inside the letter, but denial made him oblivious to the obvious. What had happened?

Cynthia took a breath and asked the one question she feared might get her fired. "Does this mean the rumours are true?"

His eye twitched as her words met his ear.

Someone had told her. Someone, probably Melissa or Anson, had told her what happened – or what apparently happened.

He screwed the paper up into a stiff, concertina shape with a squeeze of his fist and snarled low and dangerous.

"Melissa …"

Cynthia tilted her head and frowned. "What about her?" She gasped. "Oh no, Mark. You didn't…"

His eyes flicked at her half in annoyance, half in regret. "I don't know, Cyn. At least I don't think so."

"That drunk, huh?"

His head lowered in self-disgust. "Yeah."

"But she thought she'd tell Princess, right?"

He nodded. "Looks like it."

Cynthia clicked out of the side of her mouth and glanced at the door, where Anderson's assistant was trying very hard to stop Anderson and Cronus from entering Mark's office. "She's only got a five minute head start on you, Mark."

He raised his eyes and followed her gaze to the door. He groaned when he saw the pair outside. "I'll never get past them."

Cynthia smiled and pointed at the rear entrance of Mark's office, a door that was for emergency use only. "Don't let her go."

"But…"

"I'll cover you, Commander. Just go and win her back."

He smiled and kissed her cheek. "Cyn, I don't know what I'd ever do without you."

She gently pushed him to the door. "Then I'll have my new compensation request on your desk by this afternoon."

He winked and jogged out of sight toward the exit. "Just don't go overboard, Cyn, and I'll give you whatever you want."

"You bet your ass, Mark." She strolled purposefully to where the Federation heads were waiting. "Good luck."

Mark opened the door and half turned to slip through before it had half opened. When in the stairwell he raised his communicator to his lips.

"This is G-1 security alert. Under no circumstances do you allow the Swan to leave the building." He bounded down the stairs, taking full flights at a time. "When sighted, detain and notify me immediately."

G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3G3

Jason coughed when he heard the security announcement from Mark. It was an odd order for him to give on any given day, but to have the detainee a member of the team – Princess no less – was an absolute shock. He frowned as he wondered what was going on.

Beside him Andrew peered over his shoulder at the flashing bracelet on Jason's wrist. Unlike Jason, Andrew snorted in a half-laugh at the order.

"I guess he saw the outfit…"

Jason tried to smile, but instead shook his head. "No, that sounds pretty serious, Drew."

"And if she said "no" wouldn't you take the serious approach?"

He smirked. "I would … But this is Mark. He wouldn't use the security band for a quick way to get himself lucky."

Andrew shrugged and tapped a cigarette out of a soft pack he kept in the chest pocket of his Ranger's jacket. "I dunno, Jase. I'd guess Mr. Boy-Scout is a deviant well above any of us."

Jason snickered as he swiped the now-lit cigarette from Andrew's mouth and popped it in his own. "Yeah, you never really know a man, do you?"

"It's those good and quiet ones you've got to watch."

Princess strolled in between the two of them and clicked a couple of times in disapproval. "Do you two ever talk or think about anything else?"

They both nodded. Jason answered first. "Yeah, cars."

Followed by Andrew: "Jets."

She turned and walked backwards to still look at them as she talked. "You both need hobbies."

"We do," Andrew offered. "Booze, women, smoking, automotive and aeronautical … "

"And gossip and boobs," she added dryly.

"Boobs were covered in the women category."

Jason joined in with a stern: "Concern for our friends and why their Commander is all of a sudden demanding they be detained within the complex."

A brief look of fright passed over her features. "Excuse me?"

He pointed at his wrist band. "Did you turn yours off? He just put out a call saying we have to prevent you leaving the building." He watched her lips purse in an incredibly innocent manner. "Got any idea what that's about?"

"Uh …"

It was time to think of something real quick.

A sly smile spread across her cheeks. "I said no …"

The two boys frowned in confusion. "Huh?"

She swept her hands down from chest to hips indicating her clothing. "He saw me, got frisky, and I denied him."

Andrew snorted first, followed closely by Jason.

"Drew it's a good thing we didn't place bets on it."

Andrew nodded and held out his hand anyway. "I still say it's worth a twenty, though."

Princess sighed and shook her head. She opened the door to a Dodge Charger and slid in to the driver's seat. "So when you see him, guys. Tell him I got away."

Jason stepped to the vehicle and set his hand on the roof over the driver's door. "Not taking the bike, Prin?"

She thumbed over her shoulder to her guitar. "Not with that thing."

His eyes flicked to the guitar and he gave her a nod. "Yeah, I hear ya. Hate for you to lose your precious guitar."

She gave him a wink and pulled the door closed. She waved through the closed window as she quickly started the engine and left the garage.

Jason thought nothing of the exchange as he and Andrew strolled up toward the hangar, where The Ranger was supposed to be waiting for his Colonel.

They were discussing the pros and cons of the Lexus and its new self-parking feature when they managed to bump into a stressed Eagle at the hangar entrance.

Mark looked stressed, panicked, worried, upset and angry. He carefully tried to hide all emotions, however, under his façade of Eagle Leader. Although he was in his civilian uniform, the Eagle radiated out of every movement and stare.

Jason didn't like the look of it.

"Everything okay, Skipper?"

Andrew put on a grin and elbowed Jason. "When she says no, eh?"

Jason shook his head in warning. "I wouldn't, Drew. "

Mark narrowed his eyes at the two men. "Have either of you seen Princess?"

Andrew opened his mouth in time with pointing toward the garage but was halted by Jason slapping his hand on his chest. He frowned and looked at the G-force second. "What?"

Jason angled his head to properly size up his Commander's mood. "Why are you looking for her, Mark?"

"I need to speak to her."

"Why?"

Mark's brow slowly rose at Jason. "Does it matter to you why?"

"Yeah," he grunted as he thumbed his nose and flicked his eyes at Andrew in war5ning for him not to say a word.

Mark caught the look. "Have you seen her, Jason?"

"Yeah, a few times." He struggled to read what was going on with Mark. The overriding emotion in the Eagle's eyes was anger.

"Do you want to stop playing games, Jason." He huffed in frustration. "Since I ordered my security call have you seen her?"

"Maybe."

"Yes or no?"

Jason wasn't entirely sure why he was being evasive right now. He theorized there must have been some form of confrontation between the two, likely about the news Princess had recently been handed, and he figured it might be good for them to have a little bit of time apart to mull it over. Mark could be hotheaded, and she impulsive, so chances were something nasty happened in the hour since he'd seen her in the hallway.

"Yeah, we saw her."

He let out a thankful breath. "Where is she?"

He thumbed to the garage. "She left about ten minutes ago."

Mark coughed. "What?"

"She took the Charger and left. I guess to Jill's."

"Was this before or after you heard my page?"

"After."

Mark stared at Jason in complete disbelief for a long thirty seconds. When the stare ended, he took a step toward him and shoved him backward with both hands on his chest. "Do you ever, fucking, listen?"

Jason expected the shove and had therefore braced himself for it. As a result he didn't stumble, instead he leaned into it and growled. "She told us to ignore it, Man. She said you were just being a horndog."

"Oh you have got to be kidding me."

"I was not going to lock her up and wait for you to come down so you can get your jollies off."

Mark threw his hands up in the air. "Oh for the love of. Jason, this was a serious order."

"How the Hell was I supposed to know that?"

"Maybe because I announced it over the com-link broadband, Jason," he spat in frustration. "Unlike you I don't use my G-Force equipment to get lucky."

Jason had to think about what Mark was implying, and at what point he had ever done something like that. He finally gave a shrug when he remembered the G-2 was his pick-up vehicle. "Yeah, whatever, Skip. So what did she do, anyway?"

Mark ignored Jason's question through storming into the hangar and uttering a handful of swears. "You can be such a jerk, sometimes Jason," he grunted.

"Well if you have to see her that bad, go to Jill's."

Mark spun on the ball of his foot and glared at Jason. "She's not going to be there."

"How do you know that?"

"Because she knows that's the first place I'd look for her."

Jason walked behind Mark and mimicked his Commander's walk in a juvenile manner. "So? She's probably waiting for you to go get her."

Mark shook his head. "I doubt it."

"Why?" Jason leaned his rump on the bonnet of the G-2 and flicked his hand at Andrew to ask for a cigarette. "You two have had your little tiffs before, it isn't like she's going to go in to hiding or anything like that. Go see her at Jill's, say you're sorry for whatever it was you did, and take her home for some make-up sex."

Mark raised his head to the ceiling and sighed. "It's not that simple, Jase."

He spoke over the cigarette as he lit the match. "Why not?"

"She knows about Melissa."

He nodded in a nonchalant manner and waved the match in the air to extinguish it. "Yeah, we know."

Mark spun on his second. "What do you mean, you know?"

"A couple of hours ago Melissa and Anson cornered her in here to make sure she knew what happened with you and her." He blew a mouthful of smoke in the air. "I chased her down and tried to calm the poor girl down. She was devastated."

Mark grunted, "can't say I blame her."

Jason continued. "So we talked it out, and I convinced her not to go too crazy on it until she'd spoken to you."

"And you didn't forewarn me for what reason?"

He shrugged. "I was getting ready to come upstairs and tell you, but we had to do a couple of things first."

"You could have called me, Jason."

"No phones where we were."

Mark raised a finger to yell, and thought better of it, instead he shook his head and rolled his eyes. "And, what, your communicator's broken?"

He studied the lit end of his cigarette. "Did think it was appropriate to announce it to the whole team over the band."

Mark let out a breath; Jason was right, it'd be inappropriate to announce it to everyone on the project. "Damn …"

"So anyway, I guess she confronted you about it?"

Mark shook his head. "Not exactly."

Jason's brow rose high. "No? What happened then?"

"She quit."

Jason coughed. "She what?"

"She quit."

"Just quit? Like no tantrum, no yelling at you, no crying?"

Mark shook his head. "No, she dropped a resignation letter with Cynthia." He inhaled a deep breath. "God, Jason, what have I done?"

"Ahh, fuck," Jason answered. "Chances are that she needs some cooling off. She's impulsive, she's upset. But she loves you, man. She'll come to and talk it out with you…"

Mark's sudden and horrified gasp interrupted Jason. He frowned and followed Mark's eyes to the G-1.

The Sonic jet was practically destroyed. There were large, deep scratches along the fuselage. The jet's landing lights were shattered, with the glass spread out in a cone shape in front of them. All six wheels were shredded, in once case so badly attacked that the wheel had dislodged from the wheel assembly, leaving the plane to list to one side.

The canopy looked as though someone had taken a baseball bat to it.

"What the fuck happened to my jet?!"


	20. Chapter 20

Sweat beaded from her brow as Princess blew a shot of hair into her brow to force a few stray bangs from sticking to her face. The bangs were resilient, however, and refused to shift. She waited until Keyop had a solo and sighed as she wiped it from her eyes.

The stage was hot tonight. Their lead singer had arranged some fancy pyrotechnics for the performance that were far more elaborate and dangerous than the small club could handle. Fortunately, Keyop had seen the array of fireworks and asked Princess to investigate. She'd fixed them enough so that they would be impressive as Hell, but wouldn't destroy the club.

This night had been a fantastic release from her worries with Mark and her resignation from G-Force. She had yet to break the news to Keyop, but she knew she'd have to. He'd never forgive her, and she'd not forgive herself if she didn't tell him goodbye.

That was going to be the hardest part of this whole mess – she loved Keyop more than she did herself.

What was she going to do without him?

The band were well in to their final set when she spied Mark, Jason and Tiny at the back of the room. Of the three of them, Jason seemed the most pissed off. Tiny seemed to be on the lookout for the nearest woman, and Mark…

He looked demoralized.

Defeated.

Part of her wanted to throw herself at him and tell him she was so sorry and that she forgave him for everything. They'd been through so much together, they loved so hard and deep that they could see their way through this.

The other half – the truly feminine part of her – was happy to see him like this. "Serve you right," the bitch on her shoulder spat. "That'll teach you to keep it in your pants."

Fortunately for her pride, her heart wasn't in a good emotional shape to battle against it. It was shattered, and although it begged her to drop her guitar, run to him and beg his forgiveness, she couldn't.

She was hurt, goddammit. He hurt her and lied to her.

And how dare he!

The more she thought about it, the more the pitiful sight of him at the back of the club made her smile.

She'd made the move. She'd sucked it up and given him her notice. She was going to stick with it.

She was almost caught off-guard when the lead vocalist announced the end of their set and the end of the performance.

The crowd cheered and demanded an encore.

She agreed to give them one.

As the singer dropped the mic to the floor in a typical goth-rocker move, she stooped and picked it up. She looked behind her to Keyop and another couple of band members, who nodded to her. They wanted one more song, the crowd wanted one more song, so she smiled and winked and took to the microphone.

She cleared her throat and looked at the trio at the back of the room.

"I want to tell you a little story," she began nervously, instantly shushing the crowd. She strummed at her guitar as Keyop lightly tapped his own unique beat on the drums. "And I know at least half of the ladies in this room will know where I'm coming from."

She looked down at the strings of her guitar and took a cleansing breath. Again she raised her eyes to the crowd. "I just found out my boyfriend of four years cheated on me…"

Mark, who had been distractedly looking at a poster on the club's wall, immediately shot his gaze at the dancefloor as the crowd boo'ed in disgust. His eyes met with hers and locked.

She continued her introduction and smiled at the crowd for them to shush. "Oh really, in his defence, the woman he slept with was a slut who probably didn't give him any other choice…"

"There's always a choice, Princess," a female voice called from the middle of the crowd. "Tell the skank to fuck off…"

Princess chuckled and stopped strumming enough to pat her hand in the air to ask for silence. "As women we would, and we have all done it at least once … Men simply love the conquest."

"Her eyes strayed to the back of the room again. This time the tree men's faces wore different expressions. Jason was somewhat amused, yet still pissed off. Tiny was glaring at Mark while questioning the truth of the accusation. And Mark … His eyes bore into her with an emotion she really didn't understand.

Obviously the airing of dirty laundry wasn't something he approved of. The disapproval made her lower her gaze and smile at him.

Good. It hurt.

She took her hands from the strings of her guitar and held on to the microphone. "And so I got to thinking about a young lady who suffered the same fate at the hands of her beloved. You've all read about it, it was in every tabloid. The Swan and her Eagle."

Keyop's eyes watched her closely as she spoke. He didn't truly understand what she was talking about, but he knew he didn't like it.

Princess didn't stop however. She took a seat on a stool and relaxed as she continued to tell her story.

"So our Swan, the woman admired by most and loathed by the rest, apparently had her heart broken by the man the entire world adores. He screwed around on her …" she paused … "With persons from within the Federation…"

"And the supermodel," a male voice chuckled form the front row.

"Yes," she smiled. "And the supermodel, and the porn queen."

"And the Condor," another male voice heckled.

Princess' eyes widened for a second as the room silenced to hear Jason tell the guy to fuck off. She smiled and pointed toward him. "A Condor fan, obviously…"

"Noone who drives a car like that is gay," he affirmed as he folded his arms against his chest.

Princess smiled. "Of course, you're right. So anyway, it got me to thinking." She stepped off the stool and returned the microphone to its stand. "What would our Swan do … or what _should_ our Swan do to make the Eagle pay?"

"Kill him!" a woman shouted from beside Mark. "Cut off his balls and feed them to Spectra."

Mark actually crossed his legs and shifted away from the woman. His eyes shifted back to Princess and were full of curiosity. He was no longer mad or upset. The look on his face was thoughtful, as if wanting to hear what she wanted. He looked to make whatever physical or mental payment she was willing to put on him without argument.

She had to look away from him to continue.

"You all know my favourite tune of the night is the old favourite from early in the century by Carrie Underwood, so tonight … I'm singing it from the Swan's point of view. If I was her, and my Eagle messed around on me, this is what I'd do."

Keyop frowned from the drumkit, but he counted off to begin the song. Princess smiled, lowered her gaze and her voice and slowly, but almost seductively, began to sing.

"_Right now he's probably in the air with a bleach blonde tramp, and she's probably getting frisky...  
right now, he's probably buying her some fruity little drink cause she can't shoot whiskey...Right now, he's probably up behind her with a birdrang, showing her how to take a goon down..."_

She purred, "_And he don't know..."_

Jason's eyes rose, he knew the song … he knew it well. His eyes flashed at Mark as she began the chorus.

_"That I dug my key into the side of his pretty little suped up G-1 flight, carved my name into his leather seats... I took a fully-charged yo-yo to landing lights, slashed a hole in all its tires... Maybe next time he'll think before he cheats."_

Mark's eyes widened horrifically; surely she wasn't responsible for the mess back in the hangar.

They'd put the blame on Anson.

She purred as she lowered her tone to continue_. "Right now, she's probably making up some  
stupid little lie of a problem with his_ jet-pak …_Right now, she's probably saying "I'm a slut"  
and he knows that he's gonna get lucky, Right now, he's probably carving another notch in his off base bed post...And he don't know..."_

She grinned and waved her hands to invite the crowd to join in as she belted out the chorus again, this time louder to make sure Mark heard every word.

"_That I dug my key into the side of his pretty little suped up G-1 flight, carved my name into his leather seats...I took a fully-charged yo-yo to landing lights, slashed a hole in all its tires...Maybe next time he'll think before he cheats."_

Her voice returned to innocence as she put on the best display of Swan-like naivety that she could_. "I might saved a little trouble for the next girl, Cause the next time that he cheats... Oh, you know it won't be on me!"_

"_Ohh... not on me..."_

She enticed the crowd again, this time calling out: "Come on, sing it for Swannie!!"

The crowd didn't let her down. They began a rousing and cheering rendition of Princess' song.

Mark's face darkened and he shoved himself up from the stool he was sitting on. Without another glance at Princess or the stage, he stormed out of the bar.

He wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand as he heard her voice one last time softly, and with sorrow he'd never heard before end the song.

He shoved his hands at the wall, both of them striking hard as he swore long and low. "Fuck!"

Jason wasn't too far behind him. He actually panted in exertion as he sped to his side. "There is no way it was Princess who did that to the jet, Mark."

He pressed his hands against the wall and hung his head low between his arms. "You heard her, Jason."

"It's just a song."

Mark shook his head but didn't look up. "No it wasn't. She did it, and she did it to get back at me."

"She's not that stupid, Mark."

Mark actually laughed, but still didn't raise his head. "What better way to get at the Eagle? Kill his jet."

Jason grabbed Mark's shoulders and roughly shoved at him to turn him to face him. "No it isn't. The only way to get at the Eagle is to hurt his Swan."

"I know that, Jason. You know that. But Princess seems to think otherwise."

"She didn't do it."

Mark leaned back against the wall and covered his eyes with his forearm. "God, I hope not. After all this I don't want to have to arrest her, too."

Jason slouched and regarded his Commander with one eye. "Someone is setting both you and Princess up."

He laughed, "you think so?" The sarcasm was obvious.

"Talk to her, Mark. Let her tell you she didn't do it."

He sighed. "And if she did do it?"

Jason shrugged. "Then you do what you gotto do, Man." He pressed his hand into the wall beside Mark's head. "If there is something going on, you know that she's gonna be in a Hell of a lot of shit if she's away from the team."

"At least with us we can protect her …" Mark finished.

"Do I talk to her, or you?"

"I'll try. She's mine to protect." He peeled himself from the wall. "Even if she does hate me right now."

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Princess didn't quite know how to feel as she pulled on a comfortable pair of faded Levis jeans in the upstairs pool room of Jill's club.

On one hand she felt free. Free as a bird – an ironic cliché. She was no longer tied to the Federation and G-Force. She could now make plans, experience life as a normal woman, and explore a career. She could make friends and attend parties, go shopping and just hang out …

On the other hand, however, she was terrified. Terrified of being alone. Being the Swan of G-Force was all she really knew, how hard was it going to be to suddenly be simply Cassandra?

Harder of all would be having to be separated from the guys. Keyop wasn't going to handle this at all well. He was so much more to her than just a little brother. The two of them relied so heavily on each other when things got tough …

The guys had better make sure the little guy would be well taken care of; he was so impressionable right now.

Gosh she was going to miss them all so much.

Even Mark…

Especially Mark…

After pulling on a feminine cross-over shirt that sat right on the belt of her low-rise jeans, she pressed her hands into the pool table top and lowered her head. She wasn't quite at the point of no return, but honestly felt as though there was no way she could turn back. Even if she did return to G-Force in body she couldn't do so in spirit. She would never trust Mark in the same way ever again. She could never trust him with her life ever again.

How could one little mistake do so much damage?

Mark's voice from the doorway took her from her reverie.

"Princess, I'm sorry."

She half smiled, but remained in her position. Mark was nothing if not predictable. As much as this particular conversation terrified her, she knew she had to expect it; it was part of the reason she had waited around after the rest of the band had left.

She let out a long inhale. "So am I, Mark."

He remained at the door, but prevented anyone else being able to enter by leaning against it. His palms pressed against the glass, pressurized by the weight of his rear as he pressed his back against it. His head leaned back on the glass, and, although, his eyes were open and looking at the ceiling, he saw nothing but the swirl of tears passing down into his lashes.

"I wish I knew how to make you believe how sorry I am."

"I know, Mark. I know how sorry you are."

"Yet you're still leaving…"

She slowly pushed herself to a stand and wiped her hands over her hair to pull it into a pony-tail. "I don't have a choice."

"Yes you do." His voice was barely a whisper.

"How?" she whispered as her eyes finally shifted to look at him. "How can I trust you again?"

His head lowered. With gravity on their side, the tears that had been damming in his lashes finally fell to the ground. "If I step down as Commander, will you change your mind?"

She stared at him for a few moments with wide eyes. She shook her head at him and breathed in a heavy breath. "G-Force would fall apart if you weren't leading them."

"Not with you and Jason in Command."

She had to laugh. "I love Jason with everything I have, so don't get me wrong when I say this …"

He raised his head to look at her, but said nothing.

She sat back on the pool table and pressed her hands onto the green felt behind her to slouch into a sit. "He's not fit to Command. He is an amazing soldier. He is the greatest second that any commander, or any of us, would ever want. But a leader?…" She shook her head. "He's not a leader."

"But right now you'd trust him more than me."

She let out a breath, thought over the statement for a moment, and shook her head. "I honestly don't know."

"You don't trust either of us?" He sounded confused.

"You both hid this from me." She looked at him and fixed him with a hard glare. "You both played this like nothing was wrong, that nothing happened."

"Well, we're not entirely sure anything did happen, Prin. I didn't want to upset you with it until I knew for sure."

"Oh, and you thought me finding out from her would be easier for me to accept?"

He wiped his hand down his face and raised his eyes to hers. "She promised me she wouldn't say anything."

She laughed. "Oh well, that makes me feel so much better about it."

He just looked at her.

She accepted his look for a moment and then turned away from him. Her slouch increased in an innocent, defeated way as her eyes locked on a stray eight-ball near the pocket. "You know, for a man who is touted as being the most brilliant tactician on Earth, you really screwed this up."

He continued to look at her. "I always fail tactically when it comes to you."

"Up until now you've done okay."

He shook his head. "No. I've made continual mistakes."

"Errors," she corrected. "Just little errors here and there. This is your only mistake." She inhaled. "I can forgive and even laugh about your previous flubs…"

"But not this one?"

A tear rolled down her cheek as she raised her eyes to the ceiling. "This is so much more, Mark. This is not just a little error, or something you had to do in the name of the Federation and Galaxy peace. This is outright betrayal."

"And the fact I was drunk and drugged doesn't change it any?"

She blinked and lowered her gaze to meet his eyes. "I didn't know that."

He sighed and felt a small glimmer of hope. "They drugged me. The implant readings suggest I had five-times the normal dose for Ecstasy in my system."

"There is a normal dose?"

"You know what I mean. I had five times the amount a normal partying individual would have in their system."

"Which is our tolerance."

He nodded and dared to take a couple of steps toward her. "Yes."

Her eyes fixed hard on him in a warning for him to stay right where he was. "So you're telling me that they mickied your drink, and knew exactly how much to give you to make you high and not kill you?"

Mark didn't like the doubt in her tone. "Are you suggesting I dosed myself?"

She shrugged. "How would they know how much to give you?"

"I don't do drugs, Princess." His voice was low.

"No," she sighed. "That much credit I can give you."

"So it doesn't change anything?"

Her head tilted to one side. "Being drunk and drugged, unless it was Rohypnol, isn't an excuse, Mark. You should have been in control enough to be able to back off and go home. You're smarter then that."

"You'd think so, anyway."

She sighed and pushed herself from the pool table to close the distance between them. "I know so, Mark." Her hand touched at his face and she allowed her fingertips to graze down to his neck. "Your mind and your brilliance are part of the reason I love you."

He took her hand in his and closed his eyes as he kissed her palm. "Are you sure we can't make it through this, Princess?"

She watched his lips leave her palm and sighed sadly as she shook her head. "I don't think so."

His eyes pleaded with her. "Why?"

She drew her hand out of his and backed away a couple of steps. "You obviously need something I can't give you, and I can't be someone I'm not."

"But I don't want someone else. I want you."

She inhaled shakily. "I wish I could believe that."

He ran his hand through her hair. "I will do anything you want me to, to prove it. I'll marry you, give you children, quit G-Force, anything. Just please don't leave me."

She choked on a sob and brought her hand to her mouth. She couldn't stop the run of tears as they spilled over her lashes and rolled down her cheek. "Don't, Mark, please."

He took her hand and fell to his knees in an undignified mess at her feet. "Please, Princess. I'm begging you."

Her body shook as she let several sobs escape her throat. "Don't do this, it isn't fair."

"Just give me another chance." He looked up at her with swollen, red-rimmed eyes. "I need you."

She pulled her hand out of his and shook her head as she brought both hands to her mouth. "I can't, Mark." She inhaled and choked out another sob. "I'm not going to be able to make love to you again without having her in the back of my mind. I don't want to do that thinking of you making comparisons to how well she screwed you."

"How can I make comparisons between the two of you if I can't even remember what happened with her?"

She shook her head and coughed in disbelief. "Great comeback, Mark."

He grunted and slowly drew himself to a stand. "Well, what do you want me to say, Prin?"

"Nothing. Just don't say anything." She walked to the back of the room where she had a small overnight bag. "It's all words, just words. They don't mean a thing to me anymore."

He closed his eyes over fresh tears. "I don't know what to do, then."

She pulled the bag on to her shoulder and slipped her feet into a pair of heels. "Take care of the guys for me," she asked quietly as she slowly stepped up beside him, ready to leave this life behind. "I'll miss you all."

He shuddered as her hand lightly touched his shoulder in goodbye. He opened his eyes to look down at it, then flashed up at her. "Words mean nothing to you, Princess?"

She gave him a forced smile, "Sometimes actions are stronger, Mark. In this case, what you did outweighed what you say."

"So you don't believe I love you?"

"I didn't say …"

Her words cut off as he pulled her against him and claimed her mouth with his. Tears flowed off his cheeks as he kissed her. He didn't kiss her like a possessive lover wanting to take his prize up against the wall, or like a man desperate to convince her to change her mind. He kissed her with defeat. He kissed her with a depth she'd never experienced from him. His kiss told her in no unmistakable terms that he loved her more than he loved himself, more than he loved his own life.

She had to pull away from him. With both hands against his chest, she pushed him away from her. "Mark, please …"

He gasped in shock, but did as asked. He pressed his fingers to his lips as he staggered back. "Princess, I'm sorry… I shouldn't have done that."

"No," she whispered. "But I needed you to."

"Did you find out what you needed to?"

She nodded and pulled she shoulder strap of her bag up further on her shoulder. "Yes, I did."

"What did it tell you?"

She couldn't look at him as she lied. "That you'll do fine without me."

"No I won't."

She forced a smile. "Yeah you will. You all will."

He watched her turn to the door and stopped her with a clearing of his throat.

"Princess, I need to ask you something."

She sensed the formality in his voice and turned in curiosity. "Yes?"

"Did you sabotage my jet?"

She laughed and shook her head. When she spoke it was like a teacher chiding a student for asking a stupid question. "It was just a song, Mark."

"So you didn't damage my jet?"

She tilted her head and pointed at his bracelet. "Call Zark and ask him. I might be mad, I might be upset and completely demeaned by what you did, but damaging the jet could hurt the team, and I wouldn't do that."

He nodded and pursed his lips. "Can you do me one small favour if you insist on leaving?"

"Yes?"

"Please be safe."

She smiled and wiped the drying tears from her cheek with the back of her hand. "I will. I promise."

He flopped his body against the pool table to watch her walk out of his life. "I love you."

She looked over her shoulder at him one last time.

"I know, Mark. I love you too."

She smiled broadly as she stepped down the stairs to the main floor and to the beginning of her new life.

She felt energy over her apprehension.

Yeah, she was going to do just fine.

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It took Mark around 45 minutes to finally make his way down the stairs to where Jason was already waiting for him. To anyone who didn't know him, they'd not know he'd suffered perhaps the most painful day of his life. To Jason, the pain was clear. He thrust his hands into his pockets and lowered his head as he said his Commander's name in greeting.

Mark stood side-on to his second, but didn't look at him. "She's gone, Jase."

"No chance she'll come back?"

He shook his head. "No. And I don't blame her."

Jason clicked as he curled a lip and grunted an exhale. "Seems a bit of overkill, don't you?"

Mark shrugged. "More unreal than anything, Jason."

"She should have just stuck around and made your life Hell."

He raised his head to let the cool breeze blow at his aching face. "Why should she, when I already have you to do that?"

"And I'm going to be much, much worse now."

Mark nodded and tilted his head in a request for Jason to follow him. "I'd expect you to."

~Fin~


End file.
